Ever notice how difficult it is these days to order a meal in a restaurant that focuses on simple food? Without adornment or accompaniment or add-ons? Well, if you haven’t, I have.
Take a Caesar salad. It’s rare that one finds a true Caesar, the one with raw egg and anchovies made at the side of your dining table by your server. Wait, you say, “I thought you were talking simple food here.”
I am, so let me define it. Simple food is food that sticks to the original definition of what it is supposed to be. Nowadays, a Caesar salad is apt to come with a side of grilled chicken, skewered shrimp, or blackened beef. To me, it is no longer a simple Caesar salad.
Yesterday Earl ordered a breakfast Monte Cristo sandwich at Leigh Ann’s. A traditional Monte Cristo includes ham and cheese on rye bread that is then dipped in egg and fried as if it were French toast. But Earl’s breakfast version included a fried egg on the inside, as well as being fried on the outside. Maybe I’m more of a purist than he is, but it seemed as if it was over the top, egg-wise.
Today Earl and I passed a sign that read “Lobster Reuben” and pointed down the road to the restaurant that featured this sandwich. Now think about it: A Reuben already has rye bread, corned beef, sauerkraut, Thousand Island dressing, and Swiss cheese. Often it’s grilled.
So now we’re going to add lobster, as if either the Reuben or lobster aren’t delicious by themselves? Or what about macaroni and cheese with shrimp de jonghe sauce? Or salmon stuffed with grapes? Or fresh mahi mahi deep fried and then covered with marinara sauce and hot peppers?
I suspect this is the wave of the future – where two and three items will blend and nobody will really remember what each individually tastes like. As for me, I expect to continue eating out – as I love eating out – but I realize I will probably have to say, “Hold the breading, hold the sauce, hold the hot peppers, hold the stuffing. Just give me the turbot and a couple lemons on the side.”
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