But moving along... the second reason we went on Wednesdays is because the Bronx Zoo is free on Wednesdays, and my grandfather can't pass up anything that's free. Whether it be toothpaste, toilet paper, ice cream (we all walked around with our own pint this summer just to try and clear up some freezer space), or shampoo bottles from the Taj in Atlantic City... He basically runs a grocery store out of his basement. Which was very convenient when I was in college; I can't lie.
Anyway, so back to the restaurant Sammie's... So, I'm guessing in the daylight it looks like a Parisian coffee shop, but at nighttime it just looks like a haunted house gone bad. Red lights in the corners scream REDRUM REDRUM! and the rest of the lighting is non-existent. My seventh grade teacher taught me that people eat less when the lighting is dim, and this was no exception. Yet, I must explain that it wasn't because of the quality of the food. I ordered the Octopus Portuguese which was absolutely lovely. It was served with a salad and fried onions, more for display than anything else. The octopus was fresh, soft, and scrumptious. A simple dish. For an entree I ordered the salmon with steamed asparagus and both were delicious. Now, I'm not running off to marry this chef, but it was quite good. The French Bordeaux (red) got better as it opened up, but wasn't spectacular. The chocolate ganache truffle cake with Tahitian ice cream sounded better in description than in actuality. The cappuccino was typical restaurant cappuccino quality. I wasn't transported back to my days living in Italy, sipping cappuccino watching the world stroll by, but it did the trick.
So since it was nothing spectacular, why did I choose to write about it? Because of the beurre! Yes. I wrote this whole thing so I could end with a description of the butter they provide when they bring their bread offering to your table. Again, like the band KISS proclaims: Keep it simple, stupid! This whipped butter arrives looking like a melon ball. "Oh, I don't want to ruin my dinner!" you protest. But then you're waiting, and you're chatting, and you're waiting, and they bring you your wine. And what goes better with wine than bread? Every good Catholic knows that! So you sigh and resign yourself to choosing a slice of bread. So of course, since there's no olive oil on the table, you choose the butter. Now, my aunt, with whom I was dining, had to spread the butter on my bread for me since I still am having trouble moving my left arm... Damn you iv! and she spread a generous helping. So I take a bite and now I'm slightly transported to a happier time. What is this? Why does it taste so different? Do I like it? I need another bite. And another, and another, and another... So what is this miraculous butter? Rosie's, the original restaurant doesn't serve butter, they serve ricotta. But this, this is not ricotta. It's not unsalted... It's not like anything I've had in a restaurant before. Turns out, it's honey! Butter and honey whipped together, scooped up like a melon ball, and placed on your table, probably to sit there untouched by the ignorant until it finds its home in the trash later that night. Ladies and gentlemen, do not, I repeat, do not let this butter meet its usual fate! Cherish this butter, spread it generously over the soft, warm bread, and smile. Butter makes everything better!
mmm mmm good
ReplyDelete