I threw together my BE MINE Bow Tie o’ the Day and my hearts Cape o’ the Day–with nicely clashing paisley, and Suzanne and I headed to Sunday brunch. It was our first time dining at TRADITION, a trendy restaurant near Liberty Park in SLC. It was a sort of pre-Valentine’s Day food outing.
Here I am, squinting into the sun, so I could do my traditional brunch selfie with the restaurant’s name in the photo.
Finding parking was a pain because the place was busy, and snow filled the gutters. It was fortunate we had reservations. In fact, Suzanne finally dropped me off at the door to hold our reservations while she searched hither and yon for a parking spot. She found one and promptly got stuck in the snow, whereupon two good samaritans (2 of the 3 Nephites?) descended to push her out of her dire straits. She finally got a not-so-snowy spot, and into the restaurant she breezed. And I say “breezed” because the wind literally blew her in through the doorway.
The restaurant’s decor was simple and modern, but it was clearly not a place you could have a conversation. Everyone seemed to be yacking, but I have no clue how they understood each other. Suzanne and I yelled our conversation and still had to repeat most of what we said. I am not exaggerating. The din reminded me of a full school lunchroom. It was worse than that, though, because school lunchrooms are larger, so people and their conversations are more spread out.
And how was the food at TRADITION? I had the maple and oatmeal crusted chicken, and sourdough pancakes. You know how I like to try new food at new places. I want to like whatever new dish is on the plate in front of me. At the very least, I want my meal to be edible. Thumbs up on the chicken. Thumbs down on the pancakes. And they sounded yummy. Not! Suzanne and I aren’t opposed to eating at the place again, if for some reason we find ourselves in the neighborhood, but we wouldn’t go out of our way to return. We won’t end up there because we get a craving for the food.
Maybe as I’m growing older, my taste buds are becoming less adventurous. Maybe they are harking back to my younghood. I’m beginning to want the same old familiar food, over and over. Of course, I can’t get any of Mom’s food anymore, so I mean the next lower level of the same old, simple food. I like my steak, pizza, tuna sandwiches, spaghetti. I mean– funeral potatoes never sound like a bad idea to me anymore.
My current pet peeve about most finer restaurant menu’s is that aioli is everywhere. Lemon-insfused aoili. Spice-infused aioli. Garlic-infused aioli. Pomegrante-infused aioli. Oh, please! “Infused” is basically a fancy word for “flavored.” And “aioli” is mayonnaise.
I hereby inform all dining establishment owners: Your whatever-infused aioli does not need to be on every food creation you offer. You also do not need to charge a buck more because you print this exotic-sounding item on your menu. If you see me coming, whatever I order, hold the aioli. I will be the one in the cape and bow tie. If you value my patronage, DO NOT DRIZZLE AIOLI ON, IN, OR AROUND MY FOOD! I can bring my own mini bottle of mayo with me to your establishment if that will help you out.