This Week’s Challenge:
Pretend that you just had a meal in a fictional restaurant. Using prose or poetry, give us the name of the restaurant, where (and when) it’s located, a description of it, tell us something about the other patrons, describe what you had for breakfast/lunch/dinner, and finish with a review of the overall dining experience including the price.
(Restaurant review and fan fiction combined.)
Having just arrived in town the afternoon before my conference begins in the morning, I was in the mood for some fine dining. To my surprise, there was a mention in the paper about Mario Batali’s new restaurant. The Pinque Klogue just opened last week.
Not thrilled with the idea of dining alone and knowing that Ann had been working long hours at the library, on a whim I gave her a call and she agreed to join me, but only if I promised to pick up the tab. “I mean, would Veronica Lake have gone Dutch?” she asked.
We agreed to meet in the cocktail lounge. Ann was already sipping on a Harvey Wallbanger when I spotted her. I didn’t even know that they made those anymore. She was easy to spot: a dead ringer for Veronica Lake with long blonde curls and Fatal Apple lipstick.
“I’ll have a brandy old fashioned sweet, thank you.”
“You must be from Wisconsin,” the cocktail waitress commented and was off to order my cocktail. My attention returned to the lovely Ann and I noticed a subtle but pleasant fragrance. I contemplated mentioning it but decided not to take the risk of sounding romantically predatory.
We hadn’t even finished our cocktails when our table was ready and we carried our drinks with us. The cocktail lounge was recessed two steps from the dining room and Ann stumbled in her spikes while stepping up but I was able to catch her without spilling much of my old fashioned. The red sword and maraschino cherry were still there. I don’t think I bruised her arm.
We ordered a platter of antipasto to munch on while perusing the leather-bound menu. Ann selected fusilli mille gusti and a pinot grigio. My choice was the veal osso bucco and a 2006 Lazzaretti Brunello Montalcino. Ann elected to try her wine by the glass, but I was not driving so I ordered my Sangiovese by the bottle.
The Pinque Klogue is housed in a 1930’s building, stone and brick on the outside and high buff ceilings in the dining room. All wood trim is finished dark but the plaster walls are tastefully decorated with soft murals depicting the Tuscan countryside. The linen table cloths are stark white. Chairs are heavy wooden, dark like the trim. A white candle in a clear chimney graces each table.
A rather short man in short white coat with trim mustache and wavy black hair wheeled a cart next to our table, cracked two quail eggs into our Caesar salad, giving it a final toss and lifting a portion onto each of our salad plates. Ann was probably talking to me as I devoured my salad but I was distracted and silent. Ann set down her fork and looked at me in a way that made me aware that I had been ignoring her conversation, and I snapped out of it. We engaged in discussion of a wide range of topics as we dipped the Italian bread into the olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
Our salad plates were whisked away, wine poured and a large platter of pasta buried in sauce, vegetables, cheese, nuts, mushrooms, capers, olives and prosciutto was placed in front of Ann. Ann exclaimed in Italian something which I think means, “sacred blood”. My osso bucco was impressive but more focused.
Ann tells me that her pasta dish was fabulous! She was famished when I arrived, requested a box to save more than 2/3 of her entree. I left the bone on my plate and resisted the temptation to wipe my plate with that delicious bread.
Ann had saved room for tiramisu and I had a chocolate gelato parfait with coffee liquor. I finished off with a demitasse and Ann had herbal tea.
I heartily recommend Pinque Klogue if you want an upscale meal meal in a pleasant atmosphere. Price range is $$$$$. I asked Ann to add her opinion, but she suggested we return and try it one more time before posting a recommendation.