Possumblog

I'm full--

--of a very hefty club sandwich, yet lighter by a bit-too-hefty tab of eleven bucks.

Nice lunch, though, in spite of the price. Today's stop was V. Richard's over on Clairmont Avenue, a newly-renovated building that now houses one of those boutique food markets with baffling comestibles from around the globe, as well as a nice little cafe.

Nice variety of pasta and green salads, as well as a pretty complete offering of sandwiches all prepared as you order them. I got the V. Club, which is a club sandwich, which is a sandwich you order when you can't decide on one meat or cheese, so you order them all. Jeff got the tuna melt, which I know a lot of people like, but the idea of tuna salad and melted cheese is one of those things that just doesn't go well together in my way of thinking, and the more I think about it the more nauseated it makes me. So, I'll think of it no more.

We sat outside on the breezy patio close to the Wall O' Water and watched with much perplexation as a sparrow flew in and took a few bites off the plate of a diner who'd left the table. I am pretty sure the person was through with his meal, which is good, because I know if I'd left for a minute to go get something, I'd be pretty weirded out if I ever suspected a bird had been picking through my food. It might be a sign that maybe the busboy needs to be a bit more energetic, though.

AS FOR OUR FOOD, it came out with relative speed, although I must say to the ownership that it's probably going to be a good idea to do away with asking people their names as a way to identify their orders. Just give customers a number--much better than having a barely understandable food-taker-outer wandering around butchering the name they think they see on the paper, and then still delivering it to the wrong table. And, believe it or not, there actually might be two people with the same name. I know, I know--numbers might seem so impersonal, and not at all in keeping with the self-consciously precious ideal of a neighborhood eatery where everyone knows everyone. But I have to say, I'd rather not have another guy be given my food to breathe all over before it finally manages to land on my table. So, numbers--look into them.

AS FOR CONVERSATION, well, there was the recitation of the past month's garage cleaning chore, which pretty much took up the entire time allotted for lunch, as well as any enthusiasm that might have been floating around.

LUCKILY, there were car magazines to swap!

Posted by Terry Oglesby at May 19, 2006 01:29 PM