And what a dinner! We had a facsimile of Thanksgiving dinner in a high-end restaurant called Portland Steakhouse, where the cover of the menu featured an image of the Steel bridge (Rose City residents should know) and the wine menu had too many suspect win-based cocktails. The turkey was succulent though they served it with an bastardized, undercooked (read: raw dough) amalgam of sweet potatoes and stuffing. At least the restaurant can boast about the miniscule dollop of homemade cranberry sauce that had a overwhelming perfume of orange zest. Eerily, the plates of food were served under plastic covers, unveiled before the very eyes of the hungry and eager diners. The domed plastic cloches were reminiscent of plastic covers used to reduce sauce splatters while microwaving treacherous dishes such as spaghetti… These factors do not denote a high-end dining experience. This does not bode well!
Despite the odd meal, today, I’m thankful that the owners checked on us during our meal so I could complain that my plate arrived cold. This led to unexpected but appreciated seconds. It’s not Thanksgiving unless you overindulge. Namaste. 