[Ed Note: On Tax Day 4/18/2011, this was in the window of the Village Kitchen]
While not expecting a dining experience on the level of Galatoire’s nor a tuxedo clad maître’ d to snap for my seating, I did hear tell of a new local bill of fare in my Cloverdale hometown that would suit my discerning tastes. I am delighted to note that The Village Kitchen is located next door to my very own club in Old Cloverdale, and attempting to remain anonymous during my maiden visit, I fetched my big nose and glasses from the glove box of my Benz, donned and entered to dine alone as usual, hopefully undisturbed by the rabble that frequent places like Derk’s down the street.
I was promptly greeted by a pair of young respectably dressed young men (one with “highlights” in his hair) who honored my request of seating in a corner near a curtain for privacy. While I found no white table cloths, I did take notice of the substantial renovations that the new owners had accomplished. My aging ears (due no doubt to listening to the Nessum Dorma at extreme levels on the headphones) were pleased to be exposed to merely a conversational level of background clatter, substantial chairs with soft white leather seats and matching tufted leather, button appointed wall coverings behind booth and bench seating. Being the sentimental Gumperdale curmudgeon that I am, I took particular note of the prominent, appropriate display of an o
ld sign from “The Great A & P Tea Company” reminding all patrons of the importance of days past. While the tables were ghastly topped in replaceable brown paper coverings, I took an editorial note that this was probably out of expedience and corrections to be made forth with. Properly seated I did see that each table was appointed with a small delightful potted red-tipped jade plant, obviously placed to draw the eye away from the brown paper.
I received my menu from Summer, a delightful oddly named waitress, who proceeded to guide me through options, noting that Butternut Squash was the soup de jour and opining that it was very good. (Looking through my disguise, I remembered that I was undercover I refrained from instructing her that I would be the judge of that). Summer (that odd name again), did tell me that the libations were on the other side of the menu. I turned the page and located the “Cloverdale Pimm’s Cup”. Pimms, Gruet Sparkling Wine, ginger syrup & cucumber. I sat upright and ordered two. A Pimm’s Cup, A PIMM’S CUP,
A P I M M ‘ S C U P !!!!! In the GUMP! Who would have ever imagined that?
Apologies.
Summer removed the vanquished soup promptly and it was only a short time before my Cobb salad arrived. The greens and tomatoes were grown locally. I do not know the origins of the chicken but it was just enough to quench my appetite yet not so much that I felt a pang of guilt. Any guilt I felt was quelled by a sip of the cab. The crumbled blue cheese, egg, tomato, avocado, bacon and red onion vinaigrette melded with the wine and satisfied the palate. It was a salad best savored over fine conversation with a beautiful creamy woman with long legs—like my Cain Cuve.
Alas, I had no beautiful nor interesting company. And I could not quit listening to the babbling coming from Allpots and Clemenza about wagers on what Allpots calls “armoured wankerball.” Apparently there is some contest this weekend between a university in Alabama and some Florida reptiles. I only caught something about an 8 point line. Sounds like a heavy line but alligators can be rather large I guess. I really have no idea what all that means but I did notice that Clemenza enjoyed every bit of his patty melt and those truffle fries. I should have ordered some myself. I do so miss Mortimer.
Since the Great Recession is now officially over and I needed to remain hidden until Allpots and Clemenza left, I splurged with some of The Village Kitchen’s “Award Winning Cheesecake” ($5). They must have worked very fast to achieve that award since they just opened yesterday. In any event, whether it was award-winning or not, it was made at the restaurant and it was rich and delicious. I was very glad to have ordered it.
Finally, as I finished my cheesecake, Allpots and Clemenza paid their tab (supposedly) and departed. They seemed very pleased with the entire package and themselves. They were chattering on about how they liked the décor, the service and the food so much, they would be back. Thankfully, they never saw me.
Cheerio.
 |
| What new restaurant will replace Village Kitchen? |
While not expecting a dining experience on the level of Galatoire’s nor a tuxedo clad maître’ d to snap for my seating, I did hear tell of a new local bill of fare in my Cloverdale hometown that would suit my discerning tastes. I am delighted to note that The Village Kitchen is located next door to my very own club in Old Cloverdale, and attempting to remain anonymous during my maiden visit, I fetched my big nose and glasses from the glove box of my Benz, donned and entered to dine alone as usual, hopefully undisturbed by the rabble that frequent places like Derk’s down the street.
I was promptly greeted by a pair of young respectably dressed young men (one with “highlights” in his hair) who honored my request of seating in a corner near a curtain for privacy. While I found no white table cloths, I did take notice of the substantial renovations that the new owners had accomplished. My aging ears (due no doubt to listening to the Nessum Dorma at extreme levels on the headphones) were pleased to be exposed to merely a conversational level of background clatter, substantial chairs with soft white leather seats and matching tufted leather, button appointed wall coverings behind booth and bench seating. Being the sentimental Gumperdale curmudgeon that I am, I took particular note of the prominent, appropriate display of an o
ld sign from “The Great A & P Tea Company” reminding all patrons of the importance of days past. While the tables were ghastly topped in replaceable brown paper coverings, I took an editorial note that this was probably out of expedience and corrections to be made forth with. Properly seated I did see that each table was appointed with a small delightful potted red-tipped jade plant, obviously placed to draw the eye away from the brown paper.I received my menu from Summer, a delightful oddly named waitress, who proceeded to guide me through options, noting that Butternut Squash was the soup de jour and opining that it was very good. (Looking through my disguise, I remembered that I was undercover I refrained from instructing her that I would be the judge of that). Summer (that odd name again), did tell me that the libations were on the other side of the menu. I turned the page and located the “Cloverdale Pimm’s Cup”. Pimms, Gruet Sparkling Wine, ginger syrup & cucumber. I sat upright and ordered two. A Pimm’s Cup, A PIMM’S CUP,
A P I M M ‘ S C U P !!!!! In the GUMP! Who would have ever imagined that?
Apologies.
Now the problem. No sooner than my Pimms arrived, I glanced to my right and saw that crass Chase N. Allpots and his driver, the obnoxious Fat Clemenza, coming through the door. Irish and Italians, together, The Horror. I grumbled and slumped below my Pimms and kept a watchful and discreet eye on these two decayed fellows.
As usual, Pots and Clemenza were already sauced. They were also speaking louder than necessary in the newly decorated and quieter surroundings of The Village Kitchen.
A different waitress politely served them their libations: Allpots, already reeking of gin and true to his nature, ordered the “Mind Your Elders” (made with fine Hendricks Gin and Elderflower syrup). Clemenza ordered something Italian called “The Capistrano (Woodford Reserve, Vermouth and Bitters). I finished my Pimm’s Cup and quietly ordered a glass of Cain Cuve Nv6 which was a creamy little cab with good legs.
Summer quietly interrupted my surveillance to ask if I was ready to order. I was. It would be the Roasted Chicken “Cobb” Salad ($11) for me. She reminded me that the soup of the day on Thursday was “Butternut Squash” ($3 Cup). I told Summer I would give it a go.
After Summer departed I turned my attention back to the rouges’ gallery nearby. I overheard Clemenza order the Village Patty Melt ($10)(grilled fresh-ground beef on house-made rye, Russian dressing, caramelized onions and swiss cheese). For his side order he requested Truffled-Parmesan Fries ($3). The thought of truffles took me back to my childhood pet piglet--Mortimer who could find a truffle in a snow storm. Alas, while daydreaming I did not catch Allpots’ order.
My cup of “Butternut Squash” soup appeared as if it had wafted on air. A small but fair portion of orange-butter bisque. It was so buttery good, it would make Linda Richman swoon and call Barbara Streisand. Yes she would. The soup was delicious enough to make me forget the babbling idiots nearby and forget to mind the fake moustache. No matter. No one noticed.
As usual, Pots and Clemenza were already sauced. They were also speaking louder than necessary in the newly decorated and quieter surroundings of The Village Kitchen.
A different waitress politely served them their libations: Allpots, already reeking of gin and true to his nature, ordered the “Mind Your Elders” (made with fine Hendricks Gin and Elderflower syrup). Clemenza ordered something Italian called “The Capistrano (Woodford Reserve, Vermouth and Bitters). I finished my Pimm’s Cup and quietly ordered a glass of Cain Cuve Nv6 which was a creamy little cab with good legs.
Summer quietly interrupted my surveillance to ask if I was ready to order. I was. It would be the Roasted Chicken “Cobb” Salad ($11) for me. She reminded me that the soup of the day on Thursday was “Butternut Squash” ($3 Cup). I told Summer I would give it a go.
After Summer departed I turned my attention back to the rouges’ gallery nearby. I overheard Clemenza order the Village Patty Melt ($10)(grilled fresh-ground beef on house-made rye, Russian dressing, caramelized onions and swiss cheese). For his side order he requested Truffled-Parmesan Fries ($3). The thought of truffles took me back to my childhood pet piglet--Mortimer who could find a truffle in a snow storm. Alas, while daydreaming I did not catch Allpots’ order.
My cup of “Butternut Squash” soup appeared as if it had wafted on air. A small but fair portion of orange-butter bisque. It was so buttery good, it would make Linda Richman swoon and call Barbara Streisand. Yes she would. The soup was delicious enough to make me forget the babbling idiots nearby and forget to mind the fake moustache. No matter. No one noticed.
A Buttery Butter Bisque.
Summer removed the vanquished soup promptly and it was only a short time before my Cobb salad arrived. The greens and tomatoes were grown locally. I do not know the origins of the chicken but it was just enough to quench my appetite yet not so much that I felt a pang of guilt. Any guilt I felt was quelled by a sip of the cab. The crumbled blue cheese, egg, tomato, avocado, bacon and red onion vinaigrette melded with the wine and satisfied the palate. It was a salad best savored over fine conversation with a beautiful creamy woman with long legs—like my Cain Cuve.
The Village Kitchen Cobb Salad.
Alas, I had no beautiful nor interesting company. And I could not quit listening to the babbling coming from Allpots and Clemenza about wagers on what Allpots calls “armoured wankerball.” Apparently there is some contest this weekend between a university in Alabama and some Florida reptiles. I only caught something about an 8 point line. Sounds like a heavy line but alligators can be rather large I guess. I really have no idea what all that means but I did notice that Clemenza enjoyed every bit of his patty melt and those truffle fries. I should have ordered some myself. I do so miss Mortimer.
Since the Great Recession is now officially over and I needed to remain hidden until Allpots and Clemenza left, I splurged with some of The Village Kitchen’s “Award Winning Cheesecake” ($5). They must have worked very fast to achieve that award since they just opened yesterday. In any event, whether it was award-winning or not, it was made at the restaurant and it was rich and delicious. I was very glad to have ordered it.
Finally, as I finished my cheesecake, Allpots and Clemenza paid their tab (supposedly) and departed. They seemed very pleased with the entire package and themselves. They were chattering on about how they liked the décor, the service and the food so much, they would be back. Thankfully, they never saw me.
While the Village Kitchen advertises its pride in "Slow Food," the service was anything but while the food tasted like something that had been made that day with hours of preparation.
Drat, I thought. I feel the same way about this remarkable place. It is certainly fit for a gentleman at lunch. If they return often, I may have to actually talk to them at some point. After all, there are not that many places where a gentleman can find truffle parmesan fries and a Pimm’s No. 1 Cup. Regardless, I shall return to The Village Kitchen if they can keep up the level of food and service I experienced today. I give it four swizzles.
Cheerio.
