Plain Ol' Vanilla

Good news. Out of the blue I was assigned a restaurant review. Never mind that I’m not a foodie. Never mind that the restaurant was located in a food court (albeit a high-end one). Never mind that the assignment was handed down from someone who’s probably tired of writing restaurant reviews. As a fledgling journalist, I was bouncing off the walls with excitement.

First, to a writer on a budget, a restaurant review is a lovely blessing (free food). Second, the restaurant was the Coral Tree Express, sister to the Coral Tree Café in Brentwood (which I loooove). Third, I could be wrong, but I’m almost positive Anne Lamott started out this way.

Over the phone, I scheduled the tasting with Elaine (the restaurant’s PR lady). We made plans to meet at 2:00 on Tuesday afternoon. I let her know I’d be bringing a guest: my husband.

Change of plans. My friend Kari and her eight-month-old baby Audrey came instead. And then, standing in front of the restaurant, I panicked. Would this woman Elaine take one look at me and determine (accurately) that my idea of a gourmet meal is chicken with Prego dumped on top? Or worse, what if she assumed (inaccurately) I had a super-discriminating palate and asked me to decipher the variety of ingredients in each dish? Either way, I’d be screwed.

A few minutes ticked by. I panicked again. Since I was standing around flapping a squeaky toy over a stroller, I was pretty sure Elaine wouldn’t recognize me as the writer “on duty.” To make matters worse, I am horrible at figuring out who’s who.

“Don’t worry,” Kari said. “PR people are so easy to pick out. You’ll find her.”

“Why? What do they look like?” I asked.

“Oh, you know,” Kari paused. “The look like . . . like . . . PR people.” And she launched into a story about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes and their PR assistants. During the story’s pauses, I popped aside and approached any female over 30 who was wearing a black pant suit and had an “I’m waiting around” expression on her face. Of course, this ended up being about 99% of the women, since everyone was on their corporate office lunch break waiting for food orders.

“Are you Elaine?”
“No, I’m not in line; I’m waiting for my burger.”
“No, not in line. E-LAINE. Are you Elaine?”

Nobody was Elaine.

“Are you Elaine?” I heard Kari say. When I turned, I saw a woman over 30, wearing a similar outfit as everyone else. Elaine.

Let’s move on. Time to order food.

Elaine suggested a pomegranate-something-or-other, a chicken curry sandwich, and a salad with walnuts. I hate curry. I hate walnuts. I don’t know how to spell pomegranate. It dawned on me that I was the last person who should have been given this assignment. For dessert Elaine ordered samples of cinnamon bread pudding, a carrot nut thingamabob, and fruit pie. I hate fruit pie. I hate bread pudding. And I hate carrots. I just wanted a chocolate brownie (without nuts) because that’s the type of eater I am: plain ol’ vanilla (well, the chocolate kind of vanilla).

In the end, however, I tried everything. After all, I was eventually going to have to write 500 words about these different foods. With each bite I was reminded of certain moments in my past. For example, the first time I finally tried mushrooms – and loved them. The first time I finally tried blueberries – and loved them. The first time I finally tried escargot – and hated them. Point is, that day at Coral Tree, almost all the food that I'd normally never order was delicious.

Yet another life lesson:
Branch out Jenny.
Try new flavors.
You might be delighted.

And I will branch out. I promise. But next time I’m assigned an article, I hope it’s a book review.

P.S. To read the actual restaurant review, check out the April 2006 edition of Whole Life Times http://www.wholelifetimes.com/.