After a week's hiatus in Colorado, snow tubing and watching the snowflakes fall while sipping hot apple pie cocktails with
Tuaca, I feel sufficiently rejuvenated to begin the final installment of my rant, I mean, BLOG about the visit from my in-laws.
When last we left, Hubby and I had just finished a delicious dinner on Saturday night with these guys, and we were hoping to get through Sunday brunch before dropping them off at the airport and fixing ourselves a giant martini.
This time it would be
Zocalo, a Latin influenced restaurant on the Downtown Mall that Hubby and I just loved.
We'd been there for brunch a few times during the summer, sitting outside sipping their perfectly gorgeous bloody mary's - one after another after another. Okay, that's my third mention of a cocktail in three paragraphs. Does that make me an alcoholic? Nope. Because as
Dave Attell says, "Alcoholics go to meetings. I'm just a lush."
Digressing. Digressing. Anyway, we figured it would be a good bet, a safe bet. And it was, sort of. The problems start when Father-In-Law (FIL) orders the crab cakes which came with poached eggs, brunch potatoes, and something called "cascabel cream". Uh-oh. As you know, if you've been
keeping current with the saga, FIL cannot have cream, much less something so chi-chi sounding as CASCABEL cream. So he asks for chili instead.
Chili? The waitress looks incredulous. I look incredulous. FIL and Mother-In-Law (MIL) look like what's the problem? But you see, he wasn't asking for beans and meat and chili powder. He was asking for hot sauce (I know this because Hubby filled me in later). He was asking for Heinz Chili Sauce, something they used to put on tables in like 1971, but it's 2009 and if you're not dining in Pittsburgh at the Heinz factory cafe, you're probably not going to find it on your table. After much awkwardness, and FIL repeating over and over, "Chili. You know? CHILI!" Hubby finally suggests, "Hot sauce?"
Yeah okay, that'll do. Hot sauce.
Except it didn't do. They bring our brunch and everything is wonderful. My bloody mary is scrummy scrumptious, herby and flavorful, and my egg scramble of carmelized criminis, baby spinach, manchego and brunch potatoes are really hitting the spot. Hubby is enjoying his Huevos Zocalo (black beans, chorizo, fried eggs, grilled tortillas, queso fresco, tomatillo sauce) and even MIL is raving about her butternut squash soup with crab and her Caesar salad with polenta croutons (which were yummy, I swiped one).
But FIL isn't happy. Hot sauce isn't what he wanted. Not at all, it's too hot. Awkward silences all around. The waitress shrugs her shoulders. Further silence. All this is obviously flustering the waitress, who looks like she *might* be all of sixteen. How about salsa? Do you have any salsa? No, she replies. A Latin restaurant without some form of salsa? Actually, this does seem weird.
Hubby comes to the rescue. He points a finger at his own plate. How about this? Some of this? He's pointing to his tomatillo sauce and this seems to placate FIL. Okay, he'll try some tomatillo sauce. The tense moment passes and I exhale after many many minutes it seems of holding my breath.
Then the issue of decaf tea rears its ugly head yet again. Those of you reading know about FIL's penchant for decaf tea. It continues here with the waitress first bringing an entire box of tea of all colors and styles it seems. "Herbal!" FIL remarks with disgust. "Don't you have any TEA?"
"Is that not tea?" the waitress replies and I want to hug her. I want to cheer and jump up and down and dance a jig.
"Tea!" he snarls as she goes to search for some in the kitchen. That's when Hubby suggests that maybe in the future FIL should just pack a decaf tea bag in his shirt pocket and ask for hot water.
"Oh, I have one with me right now," he says matter of factly. "But today, I feel like having tea with caffeine."
DOH! In my head I'm smacking myself about the face like in the Three Stooges movies, or the V-8 commercial. I'm hearing that sound from The Price is Right when the contestant gets the answer wrong. Bow-bow-buh-bow....waaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuh.
Thankfully, Miss Waitress is able to find some caffinated leaves and so crisis is averted once more. She brings the tea and I am able to let out the breath I've been holding, yet again.
The brunch continues without incident except for one very pleasant detail. I should note here the decor of Zocalo is wonderful. Modern without being too much so, pale woods that are warm, good level of lighting, and muslin-like sheeting separating private dining areas from the rest of the space. Nice use of bright color and interesting, colorful abstract drawings on much of the walls. My FIL notices the decor too and stops on his way back from the restroom to look. I think he's going to say it's ugly, but he surprises me by saying how beautiful and interesting it is.
That's when Ivan approaches the table. He's the chef? Owner? Not sure (bad reviewer!) but nonetheless he stops by to tell FIL the artwork had been done by his grandmother before she died. He hung it as a reminder to himself of her talent and as a way to remember her. It was so thoughtful and touching of him to come over and tell us this, and it added such a personal touch to the meal. It helped the event end on a high note. I made sure I introduced everyone and told him how much we had enjoyed the meal (salsa/chili/tea arguments notwithstanding).
So what have I learned from their visit? To stock decaf tea for one thing. But also have a few regular tea bags around. Maybe even carry some in my pocket for emergencies. To pack Heinz Chili Sauce in my purse. And to never, EVER, turn down a Zocalo bloody mary when it's put in front of me. When your in-laws are in town, thank GOD for them. Thank you Ivan! And thank you Zocalo.
So, you know that Share Our Strength contest I entered as part of Foodbuzz's Featured Publisher program? I WON! Thank you Foodbuzz!
