The story behind the URL: Fancy Dinner.
About a month ago (maybe), my best friend’s grandparents were celebrating their anniversary.
They decided to celebrate the only way they know how: By going out to eat. I wasn’t that nervous because the restaurant was in a hotel. For me, I guess you have to meet a certain standard to be fancy in order to be considered fancy by me.
Hotel does not equate to fancy. Hotel restaurant cannot equal fancy.
This is probably because I stayed in a Hilton Garden Inn once, and their continental breakfast was shitty. So I expected the equivalent to buffet eating. Except without the buffet.
We all met up and went inside together (it was a party of about ten or so), and the hotel was alright looking. I was just thinking it would be very Maine like.
Even the name of the room was:
‘The Maine Hall’
Once I sat down and really looked at the menu I realized that this fancy was beyond my comfort level. I thought “I should have a ballgown on, I need a tiara, I need pounds of makeup, heck, I even need to be fluent in French in order to feel comfortable sitting here.”
There was no turning back.
One part of the menu was called 'Small Plates’. I had no idea what that meant and I had no courage to even ask. They were cheaper than the entrees, does that mean I get more for my dollar? I completely skipped that page because I simply had no time for it. I dove my nose into the entrees.
One of the dishes was a steak served with quail egg. I had never had quail egg before. I sheepishly consulted my friend about What The Heck is Quail Egg?
“It’s really good. It’s really tiny.” That helps I guess?
Keep in mind that my diet is pretty bland compared to my friend. He is an episode of Bizarre Foods. I’m pretty sure he even likes that show.
The waiter came by and asked for starters. Everyone flipped their menus over to the small plates section. I was out of luck and had no idea what I wanted.So I skipped it. When the small plates came to the table, everyone was like this:
“No appetizer? Are you sure?”
“You must be starving, have a bite of mine!”
“Why didn’t you order one??”
I didn’t order an appetizer because I had no idea Small Plate meant appetizer.
My friend Emile started devouring his small plate (while staying fancy), and I noticed a flower on his plate. He asked me if I wanted to eat it.
Eat it. Eat????? Flower?????? No. I denied it. He called me names and everyone continued talking about their exciting lives and I picked at the hole in my shirt and silently asked the planet why my equivalent of fancy was Olive Garden. Which the family I left went to once a year. Which my mother saved up for. It was an event we looked forward to.
So I ordered the quail egg. Well, the steak and quail egg.
When it was presented to me I lost my appetite. It was pretty. It was so pretty and I didn’t want to ruin the work of art. In order for me to feel remotely comfortable eating it they should’ve just dumped Tuesdays trash on top of it and called it dessert. I took a deep breath and ate slowly, saving the quail egg for my last bit of steak. Everyone kept telling exciting stories of depth and I’m basically playing with my food like a five year old. I realized that I really have no idea how to be fancy.
Dessert was the worst. I ordered a slice of chocolate cake (hesitantly, I didn’t want to make the bill to price-y), and when it was presented to me, it had a flower. My friend was excited.
“YOU HAVE TO EAT THE FLOWER. IT’S ON YOUR PLATE. EAT THE FLOWER.”
No. I couldn’t I stared at this plate longer than I did my entree. Whispering to my friend that I couldn’t eat it. Six minutes later I slowly dove my fork into the cake, and then ruined my plate. I had to bring it down to my level in order to eat it.
And no, I didn’t eat the flower.
The bill was brought to my side of the table, and unfortunately I caught a glimpse of it.
Around five hundred dollars. That is unheard of where I come from. We barely ever break the one hundred dollar mark.
So, basically, I left the dinner feeling anxious and feeling more alien than I have ever felt before in my life.
But I really enjoyed eating that sunny side up quail egg.