Another Saturday Brunch…
…another French Cafe.
This time we got to the Farmer’s Market much earlier than last week, so we had time to go around and look at the things we wanted to buy. I picked out some tomatoes, cilantro and tomatillos (for salsa) and Marlyn went hunting for pears. The most interesting thing there was actually a guy selling meat and another selling dairy. I would like to buy that kind of stuff there but I would have to get it home rather quickly and Marlyn and I wanted to get something to eat afterwards.
She convinced me this time that we should try out the French Cafe that we walked into last week but then decided to go somewhere else. Our reasoning last week was that we really just wanted a sit down place with conventional ordering. However, I didn’t have an excuse this week to not go and I was feeling a little on the adventurous side anyway.
So we walk in and our confusion begins. At least this week we’ve had a chance to look at the menu and take our plan in to order. The restaurant’s (which I don’t remember/can’t pronounce the name) ordering system was what made the entire thing hectic. They had a line that kind of resembled Panera Bread, but I think it looked more like the lunchline in my old Junior High Cafeteria. Apparently, though, you don’t order in the line you instead order from the woman in front of the line. She then yells at the workers who are on the other side of the line whatever you ordered. Confused?
So after we order we really have no idea wtf is going on; how do we get drinks? The woman couldn’t speak very good english, in fact none of the staff there could (whether French was their native language is arguable). So when you look around for drinks its all very confusing. I don’t want coffee, neither did Marlyn, but apparently we did because there was a coffee cup on our plate. I went the safe route and just yelled out ‘double espresso’ and it somehow got onto my classy plastic lunch tray (like I said, Junior High-esque). I ordered chicken-filled Puff Pastry smothered in a creamy mushroom sauce (very French) and I also ordered some hash brown potato thing. The puff pastry was a little blan and the only thing I could taste was the heavy sauce (I’m starting to hate French cooking more and more like Alton Brown). The potato had the most flavor in it, although it was room temperature when i got it.
I managed to get most of my stuff on time and somewhat hassle free; Marlyn, on the other hand, wasn’t as fortunate. They gave her a wooden stick with the letter ‘Y’ in it, that way a server could come bring her the crepes she ordered. She did eventually get her meal, but not the iced coffee she ordered too. I think she did like me and just yelled it out somewhere; I mean we paid for these drinks but she didn’t get her iced coffee even though the cashier said ‘yes’ when asked if they would bring them to the table (again, English?). Marlyn had to go back up for the coffee; I don’t know if they had it made and waiting or if they had to make it again, but by the time we sat down to eat we really didn’t feel like eating there any more.
The experience was just too confusing and pretty tense inside; we weren’t able to unwind until we left that place. I hope we don’t go back again.
