"Contemporary American" cuisine

Upfront, let me say that I'm most thankful and thrilled to have friends who indulge me in birthday celebrations in restaurants.

Let me also say upfront that, for me, "contemporary American" just doesn't make it.

My walking buddies and I went to a new "contemporary American brunch" restaurant yesterday.
Unlike most easy-going breakfast places, this restaurant has many rules. Among the most sacrosant is "Thou shalt not request substitutions." You may have exactly the weird combinations they put in their pancakes or omelets, or may delete an ingredient if you can prove you are allergic to it. Actually they didn't require proof of allergy, but heaven forbid if you want fruit instead of potatoes! Not liking any of their weird combinations, I elected for - I kid you not - "boring eggs". The menu informed me - again, I kid you not - that "if I wanted to be less boring, I could order onions on the potatoes." So being the boring person they think me to be, I ate my non-onionized eggs, ignored the strange potatoes molded into a cylindric shape since I couldn't substitute ordinary fruit, and passed on their speciality - a multi-dollar extravaganza of fruits cut into teeny-tiny pieces and shaped to resemble sushi.

I was expecting dinner to be more "normal", but we tried a new place. As we approached the restaurant with its sign proclaiming "Contemporary American food", entered a darkened cavern where we couldn't hear ourselves think, and were handed menus with ten lines of description for each item, I became anxious. The anxiety was justified. As I read the menu I realized that there was almost nothing that my "boring" palate could possibly enjoy. I passed on the sea bass with "a melange of sauces in the style of Jackson Pollack" and settled on a "confit of local chicken with homemade bacon". Of course, I wasn't really sure what a "confit" was, wondered where they raise chickens in the very gentrified suburb in which we dined, and considered where they raised and slaughtered the pigs for their homemade bacon.

Then then waitress arrived and informed us - through sign language since the place was so noisy - that the prices which looked fairly reasonable were reasonable because the portions were small and most people ordered two or three entrees!

So in short order a large salad with a huge amount of blue cheese and homemade bacon arrived. At least I think that was was it was, since I thought it was a bit rude to take out my I-phone and use my flashlight app to see for sure. (I did notice,however, the four young women at a nearby table all looking at their phones. I think they were texting each other since conversation was impossible.)

Gulping down water to try to ease the saltiness of the homemade bacon, I started to eat my "confit" which turned out to be small pieces of chicken bunched together in a mold much like the strange looking potatoes at brunch. Surrounding the molded chicken pieces was homemade, organic pasta swimming in some unidentifiable items, most of which turned out to be more homemade bacon. So, trying to avoid putting more salty fat into my body, I worked on the molded chicken pieces in silence since I couldn't hear anything that was said at the table.

Finally, things began to look up. We passed on the desserts, drove to a nearby Jewel, purchased some ice cream and retreated to our friend's condo. Ah, bliss. Shoes off, sitting in comfortable furniture in a quiet apartment, we could enjoy a bowl of Haagen Daas and relish conversation with one another. Some contemporary American folks would call that boring. I called it perfect!