I pulled into Barry's Phoenix home around five-ish Thursday afternoon. I met his son Matthew, who is a great kid and also my fellow temporary lodger, Voracek, who is a big kid too.
Barry asked me what I wanted to do for dinner? I said I was open. Italian is always good. "How about healthy," he said, rather cautiously? "We have a great place." I grunted an assent with all of the false passion I could muster. My first wife and I were vegetarians for two or three years and my family still laughs themselves into stitches at the tofu faux turkey the ex served them one Thanksgiving. Philistine that I am, it's just not my bag. But I am nothing if not a team player and was clearly outvoted.
Now I have to give you a little background on my dinner mates. Barry and Wendy are in young love and he has lost about sixty lbs. in the last five months. They are living on gossamer wings and fairie dust. They probably never even eat, content to stare into the deep pool of each other eyes and coo.
Voracek eats a pound of raw vegetables for breakfast everyday. I think you get the picture; I was hopelessly outgunned by these fanatical health food maniacs.
We get to the restaurant, which happened to be called True Food Kitchen and a tall lass who looked like she had just got off the latest Dead and Co. tour brought us menus. I took one look at the menu and thought wtf?
"Excuse me miss, can you please explain what this place is all about. I'm afraid I'm a little befuddled here. I really don't know if I should order an appetizer or an enema?"
Hippiechick took it in stride, she explained that they followed Dr. Andrew Weil's anti inflammatory diet and food pyramid. They served a delicious mix of nutrients and healthy flavors, with a dollop of environmental awareness thrown in for seasoning. Chemical and dye free, sustainable, non GMO, organic and biodynamic to boot. High on the antioxidants, low on gluten, perfect for maintaining the 21st century hominid. Guaranteed to fix your wayward rutabaga or your money back.
I gave the menu another gander. It was all just a little too weird. And they say Californians are batshit crazy.
Food was pretty good, cauliflower and brussels sprout appetizers for starters. A bit sterile, lacked a certain passion. Forgive me if I have forgotten my entree, it was forgettable. I apologize for being such a barbarian, some of your bodies are temples of god and purity, mine bleeds reuben sandwich and spicy mustard if poked.
But I was a good sport and shouldered through the culinary trial like a trooper. Just don't make me go back.