Photo Per Day #10: Plum House

Last weekend, TGI Fridays. This weekend, Plum House. More urban. Less gentrified. Tastier. Well worth it. All's fair in the game to remind the kids that there's more to life than Crapplebee's.

Photo per Day #2: TGIF

Literally. After driving around the city, trying to find parking spaces to no avail last night, the kids decided that they wanted to go to Friday's instead. I caved.

The Owl House Review

Owl House is a very, very, very fine house . . . vegetarian, vegan and gluten-free in a charming old house (not Hooters).

My girlfriends and I went out last night to Owl House which has been garnering a lot of fabulous press lately including many yummy comments on Facebook. As someone who loves herself a cheeseburger but wishes she were a vegan, I just had to try it. After watching Food, Inc. a while back, I've been yearning to find great tasting yet good-for-ya (and the livestock) food. And, it's the New Year: time to eat well, right?

On Google, it has 31 reviews and 4.5 stars from sources such as Open Table, Beer Advocate, and TripAdvisor. Pretty impressive, huh!

On UrbanSpoon, it has 10 reviews and 5.0 stars. A perfect record.

On Facebook, it has over 1300 fans including six of my friends. Ah but not the friends I was with last night.

One word: Meh.

But first, our waitress was one of the best servers on the planet. No joke. Charming. Smiling. Affable. Helpful. Calm. Patient. Absolutely perfect. She was imported from Vancouver by way of Toronto or some such. Loved her. And the rest of the front of the house. It's a very warm and friendly atmosphere.

The food was, technically speaking, yucky. The cornmeal crusted, smoked tofu? Deep fried to a greasy perfection. I awoke in the middle of the night with stomach pains. The crunchy tilapia tacos? Flavor-for-flavor, identical twin to the smoked tofu. In a blind taste test, it would be impossible to differentiate between the two. I could go on but I cannot be bothered. Lentil burger? Okay when drenched in garlic mayo. Sirloin steak sandwich? Grizzle galore. A Sarah Palin favorite.

The best foods that we tried? #1: Grilled flatbead with fig, pear and goat cheese. Delicious. #2: The smoked trout hummus. #3: The rosemary & cracked pepper fries. (Because who doesn't like fries on a new year "diet"?)

Would I go back? Oddly enough, yes. It still contains the promise of something more. The whisper of health that better selections from the menu may have offered. Maybe, just maybe, the "real" chef called in sick and we were there on an off night? Or they have since cleaned the deep fryer? (Ack.)

Keep ya posted.

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.

Farm Fetid Kitchen

Son #2 wanted Thanksgiving dinner for his birthday and the hubby obliged with a fabulous turkey, homemade stuffing and the most delicious, creamy, summer squash soup ever known to mankind. With meals like that at home, why venture out?

To have fun with your girlfriends, that's why! To celebrate birthdays. To de-stress. To catch up. To try new restaurants. To drink martinis. And to write blog postings . . .

Step aside vomit-inducing meal across the street, welcome Farm Fresh Kitchen! As stated on their website, "We believe meals can taste divine and still be good for you too. Really -- it can be done." Just not at their restaurant -- something they failed to mention.

Oh, where to begin? Maybe a laundry list will suffice: the rolls were stale, the pumpkin martini didn't taste like pumpkin, my quarter-sized tuna credo tasted like it spent the better part of a day rotting on the pier, someone dumped a liter of salt in the couscous, and the gnocchi was pure mush. On a minor note, we got a different bottle of wine than ordered; however, it was fine. Thankfully our waitress took the tuna off the bill and gave us a free dessert (for the birthday girl at the table).

But at $48 per person, not remotely worth the investment.

Oddly enough, the place was empty. I wonder why.