 |
Maybe, I should eat at more Italian places. Or maybe I should stop victimizing myself for the sake of propaganda, like some kid at G20 smashing windows for no apparent reason. Now I KNOW that wasn't too soon. I pay money, I get food. People aren't racist; I've never been kicked out of a restaurant. (Again though, I have been refused dishes based on my whiteness. I rebuke my previous statement.) Maybe if I wore a suit and tie and took a beautiful woman to a place with a room full of uglies I'd get a lot of stares, but why go through the effort of being something I'm not- which is poor, and hungry, and stupid with money when I'm hungry. After all, all I ever want to do is eat. This time, all I wanted to do was eat fish and chips, because A: I never had fish and chips before- that is, I never ordered fish and chips at a fish and chips restaurant (I always imagined in my mind they'd taste tangy and salty and crispy and like newspaper) and B: I was hoping- it was a long shot- I was hoping I'd run into the girl of my dreams- at an empty fish and chips restaurant, sprinkled with old people. It wasn't totally empty. Also, it was 3 in the afternoon. But it definitely felt like it was for old people. Wait, wait. That's too insensitive. The restaurant was geared more towards an older, family oriented demographic. Yellow walls, pastel coloured, fleur upholstered booths, faux wood grained tables and all around trims, IKEAesque paintings of flowers and meadows; did I mention the fake flowers? There was one bonzai tree. That was also fake. It was kinda cool though. I mean, I heard Koreans ran the place, bonzai plants are kind of Korean. Who am I kidding? I'm being totally insensitive again. I feel I can really salvage this word diarrhea by saying that the restaurant that is Fish and Chips- no wait... Golden Fish & Chips- the restaurant I am talking about- really applies smart business strategies when attempting to maintain a customer base and maintaining that same customer loyalty. Not only with good food, but with appealing (to old people) atmospheres. If I may justify this with a little academic referencing . . .
"Without offering these unique selling propositions based on the idea of culinary art many . . . businesses would cease to exist as viable concerns. . . . the art of presentation and overall packaging is one where the product (the restaurant) is imbued with a unique personality and identity . . . for it is not food alone that is important . . . but the complete dining concept which needs to reconcile artistic and business tensions" (Gillespie,Cailein H. "Gastrosophy and Entrepreneurial Fashion and Fiction," British Food Journal, 1994, 96, 10, 19-23).
That's why they pay me the big bucks!
 | |
| The general layout gave me the sudden urge to play BINGO. |
I had dreams for Golden Fish & Chips. Or rather, dreams of Golden Fish & Chips. I imagined that behind those plastic curtains, they'd have tiled floors, cool, florescent lighting, stiff chairs, and tables with plastic mats and a swinging door that gave way to the kitchen, of which I could, as I always do, peer into, happily watching the cooks. Alas, that poor swinging door was in fact, plastic drapes, which I eerily watched just for one glimpse of the kitchen. Instead, I glimpsed the waitress- too many times. And either A: flattered her, or B: made her feel terribly uncomfortable. I opt for neither. She was pretty complacent. It was probably a psychological effect of the boring colour scheme. Her service was good though- and that's all I'll say about that. Oh, and that she was very nice when I, for whatever reason, could not discern baked from deep fried. There was a point where she had to open the menu for me like a child. And THAT is all I will say about that. Again, very nice. Very helpful.
 | ||||
| Ahoy, Matees! |
So, for the first time in my life, at the tender age of 25, I ordered my first big boy meal of fish and chips. Salmon and chips actually, tenderly accompanied with a side of bland coleslaw (you too can imitate this treat by adding some plane boring mayonnaise and maybe salt and maybe sugar) some pre-packaged tartar sauce (too tangy for my wussy palette), and a cool can of coca cola- an unfortunate 1.50. The fish was good. I say that with as much 'meh' as is expected. Lightly battered, good, but nothing out of the ordinary, which should be considered as a win, assembled into one big chip. Indeed, I expected dainty fingers of little fishies that I could pick up and tuck snuggly in my mouth. I was forced to break that (good) flaky salmon up with a forked and knife. It was okay. I'm being picky is all. It's only aesthetics. Geez, listen to me. Only aesthetics? What's the point of eating out then? Honestly? Phhhhhhh. To be fair though, I received no fish nor any chips wrapped in newsprint, nor any kind of waxy paper- that was reserved for my company's fried clams, crispy on the outside, quite fishy and wet on the inside (maybe it was a bad day- maybe I hate clams- p.s., it was an appetizer and it was 7.49. Hey, whatever! Times are tough! BP man, BP. Killin' the oceans. And I DEFINITELY know that joke's not too soon). Instead, I got some ugly plate reminiscent of 70s dinnerware any friggin' hipster would eat the F* up! damn hipsters . . .
The chips, English slang (i.e., pertaining to those who live in jolly old England) for French fries- slang for potatoes cut into wedges and deep fried (i.e., not pertaining to those who live in fathead, Foucault loving France)- were the favourite part of my meal. Maybe because I biked all over town beforehand, fixed a flat tire, skipped out on breakfast, and needed some heavy carbohydrates to prevent me from going into some kind of shock; but now I'm just being really defeatist. I really liked the fries. I especially liked smothering them in vinegar and salt; they didn't seem to lose too much of their body. Crispy on outside, soft on inside. Is how it should be, I reckon. It was a satisfying meal for 9.99. Still, considering that, I would have liked a little more. Maybe it was the small side of coleslaw that got my attention. Or, OR! Maybe the chips were so delicious, I merely wanted more. Maybe I'm one cheap/poor/stingy son of a bitch. You'll never know. You only know me through my misadventures with food on this blog. Now, I've not much other spots to compare Golden Fish & Chips to (yet), but I'm glad I went (aren’t I always); it's been around for a while, and if it ain't gone, and don't look run down inside, then that must speak volumes for the place. I'm glad though that those fried little fishy cakies called me into that food pond like the sweet melodic sounds of some Sirenic beauty waiting to get the sexual innuendo eaten out of her. Man, I feel like a sailor.
Bill (with tip): a cool 14.98. Ouch, my wallet.
Golden Fish & Chips
(519) 888-6660
Bridgeport Road West,
Waterloo, ON
N2J 2J9
Posts
1 comment:
I'd respect that inaccurate statement more if you used the proper idiom. That, and if it didn't link to Asian chat sites.
Thanks Bot.
Post a Comment