Oliver
04-01-2004, 08:43 PM
Restaurant Review
Not In The Park
By Oliver “Omnivore” Lard-Gourmand, Cary Politics Food Critic
Because the Cary Politics friends were gathering at a place called Out Of The Park, and I was invited (Oh, joy!), I decided that I could kill two burps with one scone by partying with the gang AND doing a restaurant review. Faithful readers will know that when opportunity knocks, I say, “Who’s there?” I found it ironic that I had reviewed a downscale place called Bistro In The Park not long ago, and now I was reviewing its opposite (that being out of, not in, the park. It turns out that the park, with lake and crab trees included, is located a ways down the road. I wonder if the crab trees are where they get the crabs to make crab cakes? But I digress).
I did not have a lot of time this particular evening, because the Rotary Club Pot Luck Dinner was to occur just about 30 minutes later, and you would not believe the ribbing that I have to endure if I miss one of these events. It seems that my specialty, soup du jour, has become so popular at these events that it has become expected and there is great disappointment if I do not show up with a tureen of this delicacy (this involves emptying a can of Campbell’s lima bean soup into a microwave-safe dish; write for recipe). Richard brought meatballs to the Rotary Club dinner, which were a perfect complement to the soup and the Doritos that Larry brought (but there I go, digressing again).
In any case, I arrived early, because I heard that Mr. Brent would be buying drinks. The place was filled with televisions of all sizes, and I proudly told my hostess (“Bertha”) that I was with the Cary Politics group. She gave me what I could classify only as a dirty look, and asked me to sit at a table way over on one end, away from all of the other patrons. Mr. Brent arrived not long after I did. I did not recognize him, but I heard him say “Cary Politics” and welcomed him to our table. I will never forget his first words to me: “What’ll you have, Ollie?” I reminded him, with all the politeness I could muster, that I eschew the appellation “Ollie”, preferring to go by my God-and-parent-given name, “Oliver”. He apologized and noted that we had a mutual friend, Admin Hyatt. I still had to drive across town to the Rotary Club dinner, so I ordered a low-carb, low-cal, sugar-free, caffeine-free, hydration-free diet Tab Lite without fizz, with a lemon twist. Mr. Brent ordered a full-bodied beer, even though it is apparent that switching to “Lite” beer wouldn’t do him any harm, if you know what I mean.
Mr. Brent and I engaged in some interesting conversation about my cat, Muffkins, while we waited, and waited, and waited, and waited for our drinks to be delivered. I had not remembered to set my pocket watch, but I am certain that the waiting time was not within the acceptable range. By the time my drink arrived, I had to gulp it down, give my apologies and head for the exit (which was the same as the entrance, as it turns out). I do not care to drink and run, but the Rotary Club was counting on me. I did make a quick “pit stop” at the washroom, and I was disappointed but not surprised to learn that it was not entirely in working order (this is a polite way of saying that the toilet was overflowing, and the objects causing it to be clogged up were not, shall we say, pleasant).
So, the drink was passable but the service was nothing to write home about. In fact, it was nothing to write to the gas company about, either. Indeed, it was atrocious. And I have already noted the washroom problems. I did not have time to sample any of the food at this place (would you spoil your appetite if you were about to dine at the Rotary Club? I didn’t think so).
On my way out of this establishment, I did run into Ms. kcommiskey (and I mean that literally…she was locking the doors of her vehicle with her remote control – my ’85 Skylark doesn’t have this luxury – as she walked in the door and we smashed into each other. Even though she was not able to react in time to prevent the collision, she apparently did hear me shout “Food critic comin’ through!”, because she asked me if I was Oliver. I answered in the affirmative and inquired as to whether she might be Cathy. I received the second dirty look of the evening, and she introduced herself, noting that her dog could make “short work” of my cat, Muffkins (I don’t know what that means, but some people say that Muffkins has an “attitude”. But once again, I digress).
So, to “Not At All In the Park”, I give TWO AND APPROXIMATELY SEVEN TWENTY-SECONDS STARS. I may be able to perform a more thorough review in the future, but I have heard rumors that the next Cary Politics party will occur at the Circus. Confidential to Mr. Brent: Admin Hyatt has authorized me to reimburse you for tax & tip, since you agreed only to buy the drinks per se. Please contact me if you wish to pursue this, as I have to fill out an expense form. Admin Hyatt claims that this is for “tax purposes”, but I have my doubts. But you know how it is, working for someone else.
The ratings explained:
FIVE STARS: The best, appetizers include something with bacon
FOUR STARS: Very good, the soup of the day, more often than not, is soup du jour
THREE STARS: Pretty good, they give you two forks
TWO STARS: Sort of good, but they have Sierra Mist, rather than Sprite
ONE STAR: Not too good, wait staff has offensive tattoos
NO STARS: The Heimlich maneuver is a daily occurrence
Cary Politics food critic Oliver “Omnivore” Lard-Gourmand enjoys eating In The Park but has acquired an aversion to eating Out Of The Park. He is experimenting with a new modification to his classic Rotary Club Potluck Dinner contribution (this involves grated Monterey Jack cheese, imitation bacon bits, store brand croutons and Dream Whip; write for recipe).
Not In The Park
By Oliver “Omnivore” Lard-Gourmand, Cary Politics Food Critic
Because the Cary Politics friends were gathering at a place called Out Of The Park, and I was invited (Oh, joy!), I decided that I could kill two burps with one scone by partying with the gang AND doing a restaurant review. Faithful readers will know that when opportunity knocks, I say, “Who’s there?” I found it ironic that I had reviewed a downscale place called Bistro In The Park not long ago, and now I was reviewing its opposite (that being out of, not in, the park. It turns out that the park, with lake and crab trees included, is located a ways down the road. I wonder if the crab trees are where they get the crabs to make crab cakes? But I digress).
I did not have a lot of time this particular evening, because the Rotary Club Pot Luck Dinner was to occur just about 30 minutes later, and you would not believe the ribbing that I have to endure if I miss one of these events. It seems that my specialty, soup du jour, has become so popular at these events that it has become expected and there is great disappointment if I do not show up with a tureen of this delicacy (this involves emptying a can of Campbell’s lima bean soup into a microwave-safe dish; write for recipe). Richard brought meatballs to the Rotary Club dinner, which were a perfect complement to the soup and the Doritos that Larry brought (but there I go, digressing again).
In any case, I arrived early, because I heard that Mr. Brent would be buying drinks. The place was filled with televisions of all sizes, and I proudly told my hostess (“Bertha”) that I was with the Cary Politics group. She gave me what I could classify only as a dirty look, and asked me to sit at a table way over on one end, away from all of the other patrons. Mr. Brent arrived not long after I did. I did not recognize him, but I heard him say “Cary Politics” and welcomed him to our table. I will never forget his first words to me: “What’ll you have, Ollie?” I reminded him, with all the politeness I could muster, that I eschew the appellation “Ollie”, preferring to go by my God-and-parent-given name, “Oliver”. He apologized and noted that we had a mutual friend, Admin Hyatt. I still had to drive across town to the Rotary Club dinner, so I ordered a low-carb, low-cal, sugar-free, caffeine-free, hydration-free diet Tab Lite without fizz, with a lemon twist. Mr. Brent ordered a full-bodied beer, even though it is apparent that switching to “Lite” beer wouldn’t do him any harm, if you know what I mean.
Mr. Brent and I engaged in some interesting conversation about my cat, Muffkins, while we waited, and waited, and waited, and waited for our drinks to be delivered. I had not remembered to set my pocket watch, but I am certain that the waiting time was not within the acceptable range. By the time my drink arrived, I had to gulp it down, give my apologies and head for the exit (which was the same as the entrance, as it turns out). I do not care to drink and run, but the Rotary Club was counting on me. I did make a quick “pit stop” at the washroom, and I was disappointed but not surprised to learn that it was not entirely in working order (this is a polite way of saying that the toilet was overflowing, and the objects causing it to be clogged up were not, shall we say, pleasant).
So, the drink was passable but the service was nothing to write home about. In fact, it was nothing to write to the gas company about, either. Indeed, it was atrocious. And I have already noted the washroom problems. I did not have time to sample any of the food at this place (would you spoil your appetite if you were about to dine at the Rotary Club? I didn’t think so).
On my way out of this establishment, I did run into Ms. kcommiskey (and I mean that literally…she was locking the doors of her vehicle with her remote control – my ’85 Skylark doesn’t have this luxury – as she walked in the door and we smashed into each other. Even though she was not able to react in time to prevent the collision, she apparently did hear me shout “Food critic comin’ through!”, because she asked me if I was Oliver. I answered in the affirmative and inquired as to whether she might be Cathy. I received the second dirty look of the evening, and she introduced herself, noting that her dog could make “short work” of my cat, Muffkins (I don’t know what that means, but some people say that Muffkins has an “attitude”. But once again, I digress).
So, to “Not At All In the Park”, I give TWO AND APPROXIMATELY SEVEN TWENTY-SECONDS STARS. I may be able to perform a more thorough review in the future, but I have heard rumors that the next Cary Politics party will occur at the Circus. Confidential to Mr. Brent: Admin Hyatt has authorized me to reimburse you for tax & tip, since you agreed only to buy the drinks per se. Please contact me if you wish to pursue this, as I have to fill out an expense form. Admin Hyatt claims that this is for “tax purposes”, but I have my doubts. But you know how it is, working for someone else.
The ratings explained:
FIVE STARS: The best, appetizers include something with bacon
FOUR STARS: Very good, the soup of the day, more often than not, is soup du jour
THREE STARS: Pretty good, they give you two forks
TWO STARS: Sort of good, but they have Sierra Mist, rather than Sprite
ONE STAR: Not too good, wait staff has offensive tattoos
NO STARS: The Heimlich maneuver is a daily occurrence
Cary Politics food critic Oliver “Omnivore” Lard-Gourmand enjoys eating In The Park but has acquired an aversion to eating Out Of The Park. He is experimenting with a new modification to his classic Rotary Club Potluck Dinner contribution (this involves grated Monterey Jack cheese, imitation bacon bits, store brand croutons and Dream Whip; write for recipe).