Fine dining is not dead

“Are you a musician?” The server asked me. “You look like someone I’ve seen before but I can’t place you.” After quizzing each other with various people and places we may have met, it turned out in the nineties we both worked at local wine shops and may have crossed paths at industry tastings. Maybe I’d recognize him clearer if he shaved his beard, but probably not.

It was the first time I’d been in The Refectory, one of the finest restaurants in the city, in my entire time here, and the moment I entered the main dining room I regretted missing out on those lost decades. It’s a beautiful space in an old church. The decor was fresh, there was nothing tired about the place.

And we were there now. Finally met the sommelier after following him on social media for a few years. He poured us a couple of amuse bouche samples of obscure Italian wines to start the show.

We had very good wine. She had antelope, I had the four course chef’s menu. The sous vide beef shoulder was outstanding. Nothing was rushed. The staff on the floor were all working together with a learned precision that was not pretentious, but natural. Our dinner a few years back at the Ubiquitous Chip in Glasgow was outstanding in quality and service, but last night went past that. The Refectory is a skilled team from front of house to back.

There was no way I could afford to go in there until now. Even when I was in the wine business in the nineties it could not be done.

As we ate I was thought about a quote a local chef recently said in an article about her. She said that fine dining was dead. This is the same chef who passively/aggressively insulted my wife in front of a dining room full of people. The same chef who partnered with a local brewery owner who is now accused of sexual assault by multiple women. Fine dining is not dead, it’s the lazy, uncreative and harmful attitudes of those who control the narrative that should be. On our way out we walked past one of the former food critics from the Dispatch, who had just finished his dinner. I was never fond of his writing style, it turned into a template the last few years of his reign. Yet when a place gets outstanding reviews for over thirty years, innovates with the times to provide a superior dining experience, you keep going back. As will we, sooner than later. It’s worth it.

Ten more things I'm already tired of in 2018

Other people’s diets
Other people’s pets
Naming winter storms
Sanctimony
Twitter threads
Star Wars revision and criticism
Curated anything
Forced positivity
People who tell you to let it go
Historical negationism

Ten more words I'm already tired of in 2018

Mixed use
Adulting
Fur parent
Snowflake
Supermoon
Soul
Plan
Sour
Vegan
Spirit

Ten words I'm already tired of in 2018

Magic
Onboarding
Unpacking
Fake news
Deep state
Bitcoin
Blockchain
Vlogger
Rob Portman
Conversation

Reaccomodating social media

I’m not even sure if I’m aging out properly anymore. I’m not part of anyone’s demographic, unless something financial is needed from me. Unless there is a form of media I’m supposed to commit a ridiculous amount of time to, and remember, I do not have much time left. And for most of what I see, in preview clicks, it was better the first time around. And I saw that already, before you did.

Well before you did.

Is autism awareness day over? Is it still autism awareness month? How do I know what day it is without seeing the virtue signals?

When I got home today I noticed a dead squirrel on the front lawn. Having a new lawn service start tomorrow so I had to take care of it because I did not want to spring it on the new guy. I’m really, really squeamish about dead mammals and handling them but I got shovel and a beer box and managed to get the carcass in the box without puking. While carrying it to the garbage I nearly had a panic attack. Took awhile for breathing to return to normal.

As I write this, there is a large amount of hatred going the way of an airline who dragged a passenger off of a flight for not volunteering to give up his seat for one of their employees. Seems the airline overbooked and the employees had to work in the destination city the next day. I’’m trying to figure out what the CEO of the airline meant when he said, “reaccomodate the passengers.” Is dragging them out of the plane, not under their own power a form of reaccomodation? It’s perfectly peachy company policy to do this to a paying customer because the airline overbooked its flight, again?

Business, government, the dude troll on twitter, just do things now days because they can. With no recourse. No one to answer to but their own sorry selves, and we keep buying the tickets and reelecting them. I’m fed up with the lot of it all right now.

Earworm

There's little political passion in rock and roll these days. Or at least none that takes it right in front of a big oil corporate headquarters.

And there are far worse songs to be stuck in your head.

I know what I did, what have I done?

What I told my son about his Grandmother's death.

On Saturday I told him to think good thoughts about Grandma. Yesterday I sat with him and said that she got very sick, and that she had to go someplace, that he will not see her again - but that she loved him very much. And to give his mother, his Uncles, Aunts and everyone nice hugs the next time he sees them. I do not know what else to tell him. Have no idea what registers with him. Not much of a reaction. It was hard.

Still have not heard from L. about anything, understandable since I'm persona non grata. I know she's grieving, and it has to be hard on her, but she would not even tell me what hospital she was at.

Went to Rumba Cafe to see a friend read. Ara Harris uses a precise brush. Mary Stuart Masterson with a pen, and her friends, the F-Bombs. She is her own brat pack. You won't forget about her after seeing her read.

Ok, enough eighties.



I think I've been officially relegated by a friend again. When someone cannot bring themselves to call you by name, well there you go. It's good to know a person is happy in their new life, but when they don't return your email or address you as a collective term, well you know you're not cool anymore. Just ballast on the balloon that is now ascending.