Post #704: The Envelope Filter Meme

Envelope Filter tagged me some time ago with the Five Eateries Meme. I tried to beg off under the excuse of being busy posting beautiful, pouting muppets to my blog, but that was apparently not good enough.

So here we go. Since my dining out tends to be all about the experience I had in doing so, the list below could contain a venture to the Golden Armpits or some stunning five-star palace. You have been warned:

1) Occupying a high place in my heart is a little joint called Le Boomerang. As the name suggests, it is in Paris, though not Paris Hilton. Had to get one mention in--it's gotta be good for some hits. Too bad they don't serve hot beaver in a creamy (static) sauce, perhaps?

But they do serve the gorgonzola fondue that threatened to annihilate my waistline when last I ate there.

It's all about cheese. Mme Metro had some sort of stir-fry of meat and cheese cooked on a hot stone, I had a bowl of hot stinky cheese with bread. And of course we shared a bottle of plonque especialment ordinaire.

As a bonus you get to eat the stone, if you can.

2) For my second choice there was the Ninja Diner. It's a small bistro in the Lower Hackensack Amtrak station, and in the finest tradition of fusion cusine it's a lot like Medieval Times with an Asian flavour.

Actually it's more like the film "Gladiator" with an Asian flavour. First, the Dish of the Day is paraded around the restaurant in chains. It might be a Giant Ninja Turtle, or Kraken sushi special, or Filet de Minotaur.

Whatever it is, in order to eat of its flesh you must fight it and prevail in the sandy-floored arena at the centre of the restaurant. Otherwise your fellow diners are permitted to feast on your still-warm vital organs.

I ate there twice in one day, and barely escaped alive on a third occasion. Handy hint: the vegetarian special is NOT the soft option. To this day I am searching for the carrot that took my left kidney. From Hell's heart I spit at thee, for hate's sake I stab at thee ...

Anyway, it's a damn good deal for $7.99 on Thursdays.

3) In Amsterdam. I was returning from the Cafe 3 Koenigen (Three Kings) cafe, a dreamy place with two ancient and Christmas-light-behung trees growing through its middle when I was suddenly taken all esurient, for no apparent reason.

Seating myself outside an Indian cafe whose name I recall as "Nasil" I proceded to inhale an appatizer, followed by their dish of the day--two kebabs, some sort of bread, rice, and rice pudding for dessert.

Then I went and watched a man juggling chainsaws with his partner, who performed on a flaming see-saw.

After I pulled myself from the pavement I boarded a tram, because it would eventually wind up pointing in the direction I was headed. Onboard I met the uptight cow from my hostel who was theoretically travelling but was unable to leave her sociology studies behind. Her companion was less pretty, but far more interesting. I tried to shake them by hopping off at the memorial to gay Holocaust victims, but they followed me thence all the way across town in the wrong direction.

The two of them followed me through the "Zone of Tolerance" as I ogled pretty, friendly ladies in black bikinis, with the Sociology Dragon saying things like "This is the sort of thing you like, is it?", "What's the attraction for you here?" and "Isn't it a little insulting to have someone just appeal to your basest instincts?"

I did my unlevel best to answer.

But as I was wandering home I spotted Haagen-Daz. At which point it all becomes a bit of a triple chocolate blur.

Sorry ... where was I again? Oh--But the restaurant was cool.

4) Perhaps the most interesting dining experience I ever had was at the amazing "Nuthin' But Soup" restaurant in Prague. This tiny corner of Canada, located in the former catacombs of the ancient Cathedral, was a very pleasant surprise among several more drab eateries and chain restaurants.

Being short on cash, I ordered the 99¢ (2.34 Zloty) All-You-Can-Handle Standup Soup Special. The customer stands in a fiberglass channel with a pint mug. He or she is given either a French-style baguette, a loaf of German Pumpernickel, or a bowl of crusty rolls.

When the buzzer sounds, the customer may begin pouring him-or-herself mugs full of soup from the spigots mounted at the end of the tub. Naturally, the choice of soup depends on how hungry you are.

A thin, pourable consommé will enable you to eat at least three mugsful, with bread, in the alotted five minutes. Hobos especially will find the chicken broth a tasty treat.

If you're not a hobo, try the peasant chowder. It may not be made with genuine peasants, but I defy you to tell the difference. Unfortunately its consistency allows only the most experienced diners to get more than half-a-bowlful of it into their gullets before time runs out.

Oh--reccomendation for new diners--a towel is vital. A waterproof poncho is also reccomended, as it will keep the orphans who swarm the streets from attempting to wring soup from your outer garments.

5) Of course, I must not shrink from celebrating Canadian cuisine. And for that, we turn to Jeffers' Fryzz. The Fry Wagon, as it is known, is parked at the corner of Main and Nanaimo Streets in the thriving Metropolis of Penticton, British Columbia.
They do not serve that classic Canadian dish of hot tasty beaver on a bed. In an unusual move, they have chosen to specialize in a dish prepared with fresh ingredients available only at great expense.

Naturally it is of their Poutine that I speak. The delectability of their French-style fried potatoes in gravy, topped with cheese curds, must be sampled to be believed.

When I am feeling unhappy, or I awaken to find once again that I am not in fact an amazingly handsome movie star, married to both Tia Carrere and Elizabeth Hurley and rich beyond the dreams of Midas, well, I head for my local Jeffers Fryzz wagon and attempt suicide by cholesterol.

Note: Jeffers has reportedly opened up a new franchise Fry Wagon. Look out your window now to see if it's in your area!