After we dealt with the bank officer this morning — gosh, it took a long time just to sign a lot of papers for an equity loan we'll probably never use, although there may be something silver in our future (check back in June) — Cranky and I decided to grab a late breakfast at a really nice-looking restaurant nearby. I'm not saying I expected grand cuisine, but the place is neat, well decorated, and has the overall feeling of pride of ownership.
So why was my breakfast so mediocre? It wasn't a failure, far from it. I ordered eggs over easy and that's exactly how they came out. Kinda loose. Oops, I meant to order them over medium. My fault.
But they'd been cooked together in one of those funny little diner sauté pans, so the whites all ran together and I was served a perfect disk of fused, oozy eggs.
My question: Would it cost the restaurant one red cent more to cook the eggs separately so the presentation of the food is a little bit lovelier? OK, maybe one red cent: an extra pan to wash.
But this place is trying to be upscale in a charming middlebrow way: framed art, interesting lighting fixtures, decent ambiance. The food is fresh and credible, but — fused eggs?
I didn't like the flavor of the cottage fries, but that's just me and my hyperactive tastebuds. Oh, wait. I didn't like the English muffin either. It had no more character than a circle of dense, dull bread. The butter was local, however (yay).
If you were running a restaurant, wouldn't you go the one extra mile (no, it's only an extra inch, fergodsake) and find a superior English muffin? Of course, if you wanted to be at the top of the ladder, you'd be griddling them fresh, daily, yourself — which I certainly wouldn't expect at this place.