Pardon me while I get a little sniffy.
Okay, this PAINS me to say, but it's pretty much across the board for Big Wigs in Texas: very good at the wheeling and dealing, very good with numbers, very uncouth. *wince* These guys didn't degrade to the level of gum chewing at the table, but we weren't going to have a conversation about art, literature, or philosophy. Dollars and cents? Yep. And the voices were VERY LOUD. THEY TALKED IN CAPS. Ack. Also, I said something in response to a question that referenced Dickens, and they all looked at me like I had grown an extra head. *siiiigh*
Now, fine dining is really easy: use your silverware from the outside in. Unless, haha, Richard Gere tries to trip you up by ordering snails. But you can be charming and have a horsey laugh and after George Costanza tries to get a piece and you slap each other, and Richard Gere walks in and knocks him out while you put your shoes on, you can live happily ever after. Wait... (And here, they whisked away your silverware after every course, something I've seen in many places. New silverware is brought before the course is set before you. Easy peasy.)
We had an amuse bouche (Top Chef watchers? You know what I'm talking about.) ONE. BITE. It's one bite. You don't dissect it with the tip of your spoon and daintily eat teeny chunks of each individual ingredient. 1) You look like you don't like it before you've even tasted it - the ONE BITE - and 2) you don't dissect your food at a dinner table! Also, it's ONE BITE. Like, the SIZE.
One of the up-and-comers that was there with her husband (both Mormon) just gave off that rube vibe. Sorry, but there it is. He came back from the BATHROOM, marveling at how "classy" it was. Don't call things "classy." Elegant, lovely, well appointed. Otherwise, it sounds like: "Gosh darn, them fancy-assed crappers done flushed on they's own! How the hell they know when to do that? *hitches up pants* Them's classy shitters, y'all!" They also picked apart every dish that they were served and made FACES when they got something they didn't recognize. BEFORE THEY EVEN TASTED IT. And... believe me: there was NOTHING on that menu worthy of making a face at. She did admit to liking BENNIGANS. Yeah, that really compares. *head desk* "um, can you take away this pan-seared, honey glazed halibut and bring me an Awesome Blossom? Thaaaaaaanks."
And, I get it. I get that people like burgers and fries or their mom's meatloaf, or something like that. As in, that's the food they crave, they're used to, etc. But for Pete's sake, why not live a little? We're talking ONE MEAL. You'd rather have chicken tenders from Wendy's than a delicious Maine lobster caught THAT MORNING from one of the best restaurants in the country? Or hey, you like burgers? Have the steak! Goodness. And this was relaxed fine dining. You didn't have to wear a tie, in other words (but men did need a jacket. It's not like The Mansion where on Saturday it was Tops and Tails - which... Okay, I've been there one time, and it was AWESOME. Same chef, btw.)
Also, and I cannot stress this enough (all bartenders will agree) DO NOT ORDER A VIRGIN COCKTAIL. It's lame. It's time consuming for the bartender. Also, WHY? What's so delicious about frozen mixer?? Freaking BYU coeds, I'm telling you... (my cousin does the same thing every time we went out, and it drove me nutso. Also, she would always complain about how it tasted. BECAUSE IT IS MIXER. Without the KICK.)
Okay, the FOOD I ATE, hogod.
Amuse bouche: halibut and fingerling potatoes with... dill? A cream sauce pulled it together. YUM. One bite, woe.
Appetizer: foie gras on caramelized grilled peaches, scallop on tangled greens. The foie gras was FLAWLESS. The duck did not die in vain... (I really shouldn't like foie gras, but it is SO DELICIOUS.)
Main: the Buffalo tenderloin on grits with a butternut squash taquito. I cannot stress how perfect that cut of meat was. And the grits weren't Flo grits, they had a wonderful flavor (this is the sort of food Tre on TC made on occasion - it's Dallas eating, y'all.)
Intermezzo: honey ginger peach shooter (so grood!)
Dessert: Blueberry Ginger Almond Crisp with lemon sorbet. If I hadn't been about to pop, I would have licked the dish clean. Except that I know better. :D
Is this a southern thing? (Jess, I know you know this stuff.) Is it those boring cotillion outings we all had to do down here? I mean, if you're not sure, watch other people. That wouldn't have done you any good at *my* table, but still. GOD I SOUND SO BITCHY. I just hate standing out because of foolishness, if that makes any sense. As mothers here would say: Act like you've got some sense.
As I must have ingested a million calories, and that's from the wine alone, I'm off to do a loooong walk. Hoo, my tum is still happy. And I would really like one of those intermezzo shooters in my mouth this very minute. YUM.