The Green Elephant.

So, your friends have set you up on this date with this person that you've heard a lot of good things about. You've passed by them on the street and thrown furtive glances in their direction, trying not to be obvious that you're sizing them up. You like what you see, and suddenly have a bit of jealousy for the people who are spending time with them, laughing and enjoying themselves. You think to yourself, "This is going to be great."

You meet at the exact time that you agreed upon, which is nice. There's no waiting around for them to get ready. You already knew what they looked like, but this is the first time you've seen them up close and you take a minute to appreciate the fact that they obviously care about their appearance, but aren't too vain to go overboard. Simple and perhaps a little kitschy.

The conversation starts off a little herky-jerky. You're not quite sure how you feel about them. I mean, sure, they're a bit monotone, but there are undertones in what they are saying that are total sassasfras.



Then it hits you. It's not kitsch, it's an asian-fusion vibe that they've got going on. And how did you miss the hemp neckalace? Oh, goodness. That car with the 'Buy Local' sticker must be their's. Hm. This could still be ok.



You're still pretty excited and hungry to know more about them, so you start off enthusiastically, asking about what they do and their aspirations in life. Their answer is a pleasant surprise.



After that, though...you start making lists in your head for what you need to buy the next day at the grocery store. They might have mentioned something about the health benefits of soy meat, but you're not sure. The only part you really remember is how they scolded you for impolite use of chopsticks. You're getting a little more underwhelmed as the date goes on.



They totally still think they are charming as hell and telling some sort of joke that they obviously think is funny because they are laughing and smiling. Your breath catches when you realize they have something in their teeth. Do you say something? Maybe it'll just dislodge itself. Sure. No need to bring it up and make things awkward.



Things are finally coming to an end as they walk you to your car. There is some light conversation that is laden with subtle innuendos, and you figure...what the heck. You've come this far. Why not go for the goodnight kiss?




Well. There's that. I guess it was sweet, but...kind of weird. At this point, you're ready for this to be over. You wave goodbye and try not to make eye contact as you get in your car and drive by them.

The next day at work, your friend who set you up asks you how your date went and you say "...what date?"

Oh, that one.

It was ok, I guess.

The Pepper Club

The August adventure for our humble supper club was The Pepper Club. I had been there a few times before, once on a date about five years ago, another time with a previous supper club to which I had belonged. And a few times for apps and drinks. Good times, all.

So again this month we travel to the easterly end of Middle Street. This time, however, the street is once again a street instead of a hole. Hooray!

In honor of their anniversary, The Pepper club was having a special - four courses for $21, with a selection of wines that have proceeds going to help earthquake-ravaged Haiti. Well alright, that sounds pretty good. There were four of us as this outing, and we all chose this special.

I started with a glass of Tempranillo, and things seemed to be going pretty well. Our hipster waitress was patient with us, giving us adequate time to make our choices, though did not explain well enough that we did not necessarily need to make all of our course choices before the meal. That' alright. We all laughed a little and settled to conversation and really delicious slices of molasses oatmeal bread while we waited for our appetizers to arrive.

When I think of baked brie, I think of delicious warm, creamy French cheese pouring gently from its rind, a smattering of almond slivers and apricot conserve about, with some wafery crackers for transport.

This is what I got instead:

Molten melted mess. With foam.

So that was a bummer. I think this was about the time that hipster waitress noticed me writing stuff down, and was a little weird about it. However, this is also about the time that she stopped noticing that my wine glass was empty.

About 50 minutes after being seated, our salad course arrived. My salad was mesclun greens with Pepperclub vinaigrette. They were a little skimpy on the dressing unfortunately, but it was very good.

My dinner entree was Wolfe Neck Farm Beef Meatloaf with Mashed Potatoes & Mushroom Gravy. I was pretty excited about it. Meatloaf can so often be pushed aside as leftovers fodder or old lady food. However, it can also be a thing of great artistry and delight. The secret blend of meat, vegetables and spices can be delicious and interesting as well as comforting. This is what I was hoping for.

This is what I got instead:



You can't really tell from this photo, so let me explain the flavors to you. First off, the color in the photo above is correct - the mashed "potatoes" are the same color as the orange slice garnish. I am not really sure what they were. A little parsnippy? I am not sure. The flavor was very hard to place, but that place was not Potatoville. The gravy was very sweet, and reminded me of homemade ketchup-based barbecue sauce. The meatloaf itself was very oniony and ... leftover fodder. Fortunately with this course I did get another glass of wine. Finally.

The last course was dessert. I had Maine blueberry cheesecake. It was really good. The crust was crunchy and a little salty, which was a nice contrast to the sweetness of the cheesecake.

Overall as a group we were not wholly impressed. Yes, we had only paid $21 each, but by the time we had finished our meals, we had been at the restaurant for over two hours. It then took forever for the hipster waitress, Sarah, to bring our check. We figured out our portions, put our credit cards in an obvious place with the check and waited. For fifteen minutes. She had walked by our table at least a couple of times. So, I figured I must need to go up to the register. I took the money and went up. A very friendly fellow was helping me out and the hipster waitress came over and demanded to know what was going on. I politely explained that we had waited a long time for her to come back, and so I thought this would help. She said, "It didn't look like you were ready." I guess frustrated and bored does not look "ready." She then decided to write up our slips all individually. I am not sure why.

We left there two and a half hours after we had arrived, grumpy, disappointed, and needing alcohol.

That night, a man broke into The Pepper Club and stole our $21 each.