Diversity and Fine Dining

Some people consider well-refined tastes to be a gift, and something to be cherished.

I wouldn't know, of course, having no refinement whatsoever -- but I sometimes wonder what it must be like to savor epicurean experiences and to get off on going gourmet. Do those folks truly enjoy life more because of their ability to distinguish subtle flavors and ultra-fine nuances? Is there some extra-special rush of sublime emotion that comes from recognizing a superb vintage, or in detecting the exact heavenly texture that says your steak has been cooked to perfection? I have no idea.

All I know is that the crudeness of my taste buds saves me LOTS of money over what my more refined friends have to spend for a good meal. I can honestly say that if offered a $100 meal at the most acclaimed steakhouse vs. a $5 grab bag from Taco Bell, I would take the tacos every single time. Give me Hersheys over anything in a flowered box from Europe. And to me, there is no difference whatsoever between Annie Green Springs and Dom Perignon...and I'd prefer Dr. Pepper to either one, anyway.

Anyway, I'm just saying this so that you'll appreciate that I'm sincere when I tell you about yesterday's lunch. I'm temporarily working at the South Park facility. (No, not South Park as in where Cartman and Kenny live. I'm talking about the group of buildings over near Mineral & Broadway.) There aren't many advantages to working there; it's further from my home, the desks are horrendous ergonomic nightmares, and the drinking fountains taste faintly of botulism and industrial waste. But...but there is a Fazoli's restaurant right up the street. That makes it all worthwhile.

We had a Fazoli's over on my side of town for a while, but I didn't pay attention for a while, and all of a sudden it was a Good Times. Not sure how or why that would happen -- it seems odd. While I confess that I do occasionally enjoy a juicy burger accompanied by frozen custard, I can't say that I've had all that many "good times" at Good Times. But I digress.

As you may or may not know, Fazoli's serves Italian fast food. Other than their salads, I'm guessing that most of their fare is probably as unhealthy and calorically supersizing as any McDonalds combo, but I think it's kinda nice to occasionally mix some marinara into my quick-meal menus every now and then. Plus, they have unlimited garlic breadsticks soaked in butter and flavoring that makes them melt in your mouth and leave great, greasy splotches on any surface they might touch.

When I first started eating at Fazoli's, the store we went to hired some developmentally disabled youngsters (usually Down syndrome kids) to deliver the breadsticks to the tables. I thought this was a great idea for several reasons. First and most obvious, it provided gainful employment for folks who might otherwise have trouble finding jobs. Second, the kids were friendly, motivated, and unfailingly cheerful (unlike a lot of fast food workers you might encounter elsewhere). They made you feel that you were making them happy by taking additional bread, and as everyone knows, food received in this manner contains fewer calories than normal. Third, because the breadbasket bearers had only that one simple job, they were ubiquitous and attentive -- by golly, if you needed a garlic fix, tongs of savory manna would instantaneously appear.

Then a couple of years ago, the store changed their policy. You'd get one single breadstick with your meal, and if you wanted more, it would cost you. You had to order the "unlimited sticks" option. To be honest, I really didn't have a problem with that, since I knew I'd be eating my money's worth anyway. But apparently, this change in philosphy did not end up benefiting the franchise; they have since reversed their position and once again give out the garlic bread ad infinitum. During my last visit, there were no smiling basketeers in the dining room -- you had to go ask at the counter -- but fresh, hot, and delicious breadsticks were readily available upon request.

I don't know if the dining room server positions have been eliminated, or I was just there on a day when the kid wasn't on duty. I guess I'll have to go back to find out.

Anyway, my point is that the Diversity Training I've received at work seems to be making a difference in the way I view things. I have learned to respect and celebrate the wide spectrum of dining preferences that one encounters in his travels. I work with several people to whom a "good meal" requires subtle lighting, tuxedoed servers, a wine list held together with gold-braided string, french names for all the desserts, and Harry Connick, Jr. in the background. Their meals may take a couple of hours, and they're likely to find chunks of lemon inexplicably floating in their water glass...and yet somehow they manage to find the experience enjoyable. Well I say more power to 'em.

But as for me, I prefer lots of light, servers with paper hats, a machine where I can refill my own soda, and a cheerful kid with a basket full of breadsticks. That's all I'm sayin'. And if my favorite meal costs about a tenth of what the Harry Connick plate goes for, well, I won't complain about that, either.

Whatever you choose to eat, my friends, enjoy it to the maximum. And have a great day!