Parenthetically Speaking

My girlfriends took me out on Monday night for a belated birthday dinner. I can honestly say, I have the greatest friends ever known to mankind. They're beautiful, smart, kind and funny as hell. It's one heckuva good combo. Per usual, our conversation ranged from vaginal reconstruction (a.k.a. the snatch lift) to the joy of breast exams and contained the mandatory discussion of hot men (i.e., famous and/or local).

Note #1: I have to use "and/or" in that sentence 'cause one of us scored a famous/local husband who's really easy on the eyes. (Yes, I'm talking about you, hon! And maybe just a little about John.)

Note #2: I say "no" to Robert Downey Jr.; I am completely overruled.

Anyhoo, we ventured to the Wegmans owned, newly opened Next Door Bar & Grill which is, in fact, next door to PETCO if you're keeping score. This is why their logo requires the failed logic, "across from Wegmans Pittsford" addendum. But, yet, I understand completely. Why name your restaurant something suitable (or compelling, for that matter) when you can now attract all of those customers who, while shopping for Max's biscuits, realize that they're so friggin' hungry they could devour a can of wet dog food and immediately realize, "Oh wait! Let's just go next door!" Very clever, Danny, very clever. Note to my vast readership: PETCO is also a great way to avoid valet parking if you're a) so inclined and b) in need of kitty litter. Win: win.

The restaurant itself is shockingly large inside (who knew the bowels of Rite-Aid were so vast?) and somewhat confused/confusing from a design aesthetic. In an odd, low budget tribute to Trading Spaces, the lobby contains pale wood shelving lined with fresh, green apples and the hallway to the main grill area is flanked by birch logs hanging from chains. I'm convinced that some (lazy) designer, channeling Hildi, probably made Alex, the General Manager, cut down a tree and then stay up all night turning it into "artful" decor the night before the grand opening. What a reveal that must have been for Danny, eh? I'm really hoping his expression was captured on film.

Although the main grill area was the place to see and be seen, we were hidden seated in a room to the side which was absolutely devoid of ambiance. (Placing us out of earshot was probably for the best given our topics of conversation. Prescient hostess?) My favorite topic, the cocktails (which weigh heavily in my ranking), were fabulous. One friend had a delicious Flock of Seagulls (pale blue) martini. I had a sake mojito. Yum.

The menu is great because it has both tasting dishes (to share) and full entrees (to hoard), if desired. We opted for dishes to share (i.e., the group-designed sampler platter which I love). At first blush, our waitress was extremely helpful. She did exactly what is needed: steer us away from potential disasters (apparently the fig and gorgonzola pizza is a huge miss) and direct us toward the culinary gems. One problem: the meals we ordered weren't all that spectacular. The spinach pizza was bland, the mussels and pommes frites were okay, and yet somehow the sushi was perfect. (I say that's a whole heck of a lot of overhead for a sushi joint. Shiki anyone?)

On our way out, we stopped into the bar just to check it out. While it has a nice feel and intimate seating areas with couches/chairs, it was also blasting techno/dance music. Very relaxing for a Monday night. To compound the confusion, there's another room off the back of the bar bathed in red light and disco dots. Hello Disco Stu. (And high five to the geriatric business dude who liked my dance moves. Next time I'm out partying on a school night, I'm looking for you grandpa! Game on.)

All in all, it was a great night out. Do I need to go Next Door any time soon? Nah.

Oh, and I have to include this song for Kris because I sing it every time I'm in a restaurant but I substitute Andres with Entree. Go figure. Catchy.