Seated too promptly, placard-like menus are thrust upon us. These are easy-wipe off tri-fold affairs, with scalloped tops, replete with 1) 2) 3) step instructions... could I have wandered into Friendly's/Sonic in error? I surreptitiously peer at adjacent diners through the dim lighting and Tuscan-inspired decor. Yes, in fact at every table within eyesight, diners wear T-shirts with emblazoned statements: PATRIOTS. HARLEY DAVIDSON. UNH. A few sport their ballcaps at the table as well. Though a date night, I didn't get the memo and am apparently overdressed-not for the first time, I remind myself that this is Manchester, known affectionately across New Hampshire as 'Manch-Vegas', and resolve to stand down.
Our tushes have barely grazed the leatherette booth when a pimply-faced youth ( 15? 21? who can tell anymore) is slinging a wine bottle at us, sotto vocce with a Boston accent, 'Try a sample?' Whether it is an sample or a glass that is being proffered is never clear, because I tread into deep waters by daring to ask about organic wines? Nope. Low sulfite? This one sends him running for help; back in a jiffy, he announces:
'They only carry those at liquor stores.' My heart sinks a bit, in a combination generation-gap attitude-adjustment senior moment. However, since I chose the damn place, we soldier on.
Didn't I warn my companion as we approached the windowless edifice that Olive Garden stole anything good they ever did from Macaroni Grill, as did Carrabas, and that I can't understand why we still have to put up with the likes of this, while the closest Macaroni Grill is in Portland, Maine. It's a pretty sorry state of affairs in the chain restaurant world. OG employees might second my opinion: in 2011 OG converted the bulk of its staff to part- time status, thereby deleting health care benefits. No wonder the only wine slinger they can manage to hire for up front looks and sounds as if he should be washing dishes in the back. Note to self: text 18 year old son to apply here, he can wipe the floor with this kid, even given his zero experience waiting tables. At least my son has manners and is easy on the eyes.
Pluckily brandishing my phone as supplemental lighting, I discern that there is a round green symbol next to several unappetizing menu items. I mistakenly assume that it being a green symbol, these are the healthy choices. However, since these items are also laden with extra breading, butter, and cheese, this does not seem accurate...wait, it appears the letters 'OG' are inside the green thingy. Original gangster? Really? Well, it is nominally Italian... maybe they are taking this 'ye olde worlde' thing a bit too far, coupling sagging sales with a Godfather twist... ah, it appears that these choices have been designed by the chef himself, after a trip back to the old country. Yah right. Is a patently hokey claim merely suspect, or actually offensive? I go with the latter... though I fear (present company excepted) they have not underestimated their audience. According to Wikipedia (a fitting source for an establishment of this caliber) there are over 721 OG's in the United States. I can't imagine why.
No comments:
Post a Comment