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we x e g e s i s |
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(noun) An explanation or critical interpretation.
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wThursday, April 29, 2004 |
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A friend's birthday was enough of an excuse for another friend and myself to take her to Lupa for dinner. I had read impressive things about Babbo, one of Mario Batali's other restaurants, and was curious to see if Lupa would be worthy of similiar praise.
We arrived at 8:15PM and were told by the host that once a party of 4 left we would get their spot at the long communal table. He assured us that it wouldn't be long since they were finishing their desserts already. However, long after the desserts were gone, the wine finished, and the bill paid, these people were still sitting there chatting like they were completely unaware of the crowd of people waiting for a table outside. (One of my dinner companions mentioned that she read somewhere that people are more inclined to stay at a table when they know that others are waiting for it. I think it was because of natural territorial instincts or something. But still, you would think that common courtesy would have prompted them to be more considerate of other diners.) It was nearing 9 o'clock and hunger was making me moody. It didn't help matters that the host tried not to look at our party since he knew that he had given us a terribly inaccurate idea of how long our wait would be.
Just when these table hogs were getting up, a well-dressed and much older party of four walked into the restaurant and the host immediately came up to me to say that there was a nice table in the back and that the people there were already paying the bill. The next thing I knew, he was ushering the older party towards our seats! I gave him the benefit of the doubt and gave him a couple of minutes to make good on his latest word. But as the minutes passed, I got more and more irritated and started to take a good look around at the people eating in this place. I realized that my friends and I were the youngest looking ones in there. The majority of the patrons looked like they were in their mid- to late thirties and somewhat affluent. Two of us had backpacks on and sported sneakers instead of office pumps. I don't know for sure if the run-around (or in this case, wait-around) from the host had anything to do with superficial prejudices, but in the state that I was in, I was ready to believe it if only for a little while. As this conviction took hold, I saw the host approaching and finally saying those three beautiful words, "Your table's ready."
Once we were seated, we had very little reason to grouse. The waiter was gracious, friendly, knowledgable, and didn't give us any attitude when we didn't order any wine or dessert. The proscuitto was rich and the portion was perfect for an appetizer for us three. The pork Arista, the special on Wednesdays, was a generous slab roasted just right with the meat juicy and a little pink. The prices were not bad considering that I've paid the same for food in Time Square and yet the quality could not compare with this SoHo trattoria.
As we walked out, the host followed us out of the restaurant to apologize for the wait. By then I was already planning on returning to try the Tuesday special, crispy duck "Agro Dolce", so I was more than happy to accept his apology. That extra step that he took to remember my name and make a point of saying sorry was much appreciated.
posted by
Angie at 12:14 PM
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