Valentine's Day dinner was at a new local restaurant called Evenfall - I think it used to be a steakhouse but was taken over not too long ago and changed into more of a schmancy place.
Last night, they had a special fixed-price menu, $50 per person. Two of the entrées were two-person meals - a seafood paella (which we had, and rather enjoyed, despite my initial misgivings about the scallops; I've never been much of a scallop fan) and a garlic-lemon-rosemary roasted chicken. Now, if you've never had paella, you might not realize that it's just not a one-person meal that you can whip up for yourself in five minutes at home, but I would argue that just about any person with half a brain will realize that if you order a WHOLE CHICKEN, it's not a meal that one consumes by oneself at one sitting. However, the nice folks at Evenfall even went the extra step to label each of the two-person choices among several others: the first-course Fontina Fondue FOR TWO, the second-course Garlic-Lemon-Rosemary Roasted Whole Chicken FOR TWO or Paella FOR TWO, and the dessert Chocolate Fondue FOR TWO. You're getting the drift here, right?
In the middle of our meal - well past the 5:00 seating time that we were 10 minutes late for - walked a middle-aged couple along with an older couple, and they were seated next to us. Now presumably, given that this was Valentine's Day, and there were specific seatings outlined on the restaurant's web site, these were people who had made a reservation ahead of time, and were aware of the special pricing for the night's meal. We judged them to be fairly well-off after hearing the younger couple mention a couple of times that the evening's meal would be on them. But then it started.
The waiter was a nice guy who had been more than willing to put up with our small talk and my obnoxious jokes (if you've ever eaten out with me, you know what I mean - making silly requests like asking the wait staff to wrap up the powdered sugar left over on a dessert plate, or asking for a Coke and a water, but specifying that they be in separate glasses. Y'know, the usual gut-busting stuff that elicits eye rolls from all who witness it. Can I help it if my humor is ahead of its time?!) But for some reason, our new neighbors just couldn't seem to fathom the idea of two-person entrées, despite the MIND-BOGGLINGLY CLEAR DESIGNATION ON THE MENU...a designation that reall wasn't necessary in the first place for those familiar with the gargantuan proportions of your average roasting chicken. And so they indignantly peppered him with questions about what they viewed as nothing short of a price-gouging scheme.
"So if we get the chicken, two of us have to share it? And it's $50 per person?"
"Yes. It's a two-person meal, not a one-person serving. It's enough food for two people."
My brain cells slowly begin committing suicide as they sensed their brethren at the other table being miserably underused.
"Ok, so tell me this. What if HE orders the chicken, and I don't order an entrée? Is it still $50 each?"
"Yes, that's right."
"But why? We're only ordering ONE entrée!"
Resisting urge to go upside this woman's head with our two-person paella pan...
"Well, it's not for one person...it's two portions. There's enough chicken to serve two people. It's for people to share."
"So...we could EACH order an entrée and pay $50 per person, or the two of us could get ONE entrée and STILL pay $50 each?"
Please God, just make it stop. I promise I won't giggle the next time someone says "trespasses" in the Lord's Prayer.
"Yes, because the chicken is for two people. You could get the 'hearts & sole' and he could get the veal, or you could get the filet and he could get the salmon."
"It just doesn't make any sense to me. I don't get it."
Once they managed to place their order - we had finally ended up tuning them out, fearing for the life of our remaining brain cells - their round of cocktails was served. Given their zeal for pinching a penny or 2500, we were surprised to see that everyone at the table had ordered some ridiculously fancy drink, the kind you usually don't see without a little plastic sword or an umbrella garnishing the glass. I was surprised they didn't each demand a crazy straw. The glass of wine I'd had (Penfolds shiraz, highly recommend it) had cost $8, so even at a conservative $6.25 a drink, that's a cool $25 that the middle-aged couple would be tacking onto their bill for the right to sip something that looks like it should have combs soaking in it. And yet they're quibbling over their God-given right to order an outlandishly-sized entrée and take HALF A BIRD home with them. It's a doggy bag, not a doggy backpack.
We left a fairly generous tip...we figured our waiter could use it.
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