The Bakery Down Town

Last night I had an unforgetable dining experience.  I was catered to by five industrious people right in the comfort of my own basement.

I learned about this new eatery – The Bakery Down Town – when a hand printed flyer was personally delivered to me in my living room.  It said to come on down and eat there – it’s great!  Well I am a sucker for skillful advertising.   I decided to check it out, and went just as I was.  Good thing there was no rule banning bare feet  and that no one seemed at all concerned when I arrived without any real money.

At the bottom of the stairs a sign directed me to “Go to the Front Desk Before Anything Else”.  The front desk turned out to be way in the back, but I found it anyway.  It had a sign written in red pen which said “Open, Come In, Come In.”  I thought I was already in, but apparently not.  Another sign advised me of the names and duties of all the “employese“.  Kenzie – front desk.  Kale – art worker and boss.  Omayja – hostess and waitress.  Madison – chef.  Corey – janitor.  (Well, somebody’s got to clean up the mess.)

I was handed a menu and a customer comment sheet and a pen.  Then I was directed around some furniture to a skipping rope strung between a chair and a doorknob and ceremoniously allowed to cross to the other side.  This took a few minutes because somebody had tied a few too many knots.

At last I was seated at my table and allowed to read the menu.  I’m going to share it with you just so you’ll know how difficult it was for me to make my choices.

– Popcorn (with any flavoring)  – Fluffy Ice Cream (any kind)  – Bread (any kind)

– Cake (any kind)   – Cupcakes (any kind)  – Salted Corn

– Spiced and cooked onions (you can get them unspiced)

– Salad (with anything on it)  – Dried Fruit (any type)  – Noodles (any type)

– Fruit Smoothies  – Ice Creamy Shakes  – Juice  (any type)

– Water  – Pancakes  – French Toast  – Eggs and Toast

I rattled off several random menu items, but my waitress got frustrated trying to write them all down.  She said she’d just go and get it all by remembering.  I told her that would be fine.  The Boss popped in to set the mood for a pleasant dining experience and asked me if I liked Lady Gaga.  He didn’t stick around for an answer so I don’t know what song it was, but it was definitely her.

The service was very fast, and the presentation quite fascinating.  I needed help with identification in a few cases and everyone, including the janitor, seemed eager to help me out.   A lot of the food resembled shiny plastic, but most of it was hand crafted from something that looked a lot like moon sand, in a rainbow of colours, on various mismatched plates and platters.

I had hardly stopped ooohing and aahhing over it all before I was being urged to fill out the comment card. The rating scale was (1) bad, (2) okay, (3) not bad, (4) very good, and (5) the best.  There were instructions to rate the cooking, cleaning, deep-frying and manners.  I gave them all a 10 and five messy red stars.  Then I had to say what I liked best, and I told them I was thrilled to get the best table in the house.  Would I come again?  You bet.  Did I think they should have more ABATIZERS?  Well, it couldn’t hurt.

So what do you do after a delicious dinner at a fancy new restaurant?  Well, you see a movie, of course.  Right in the establishments dining room.  With REAL popcorn.  (That moon sand stuff is kind of dry.)   I invited the whole crew.  It was the least I could do to reward all their hard work.  Seeing as how I didn’t bring a tip and all.

Raiding Closets

Although Lady Gaga’s closet might be a lot of fun to raid, I don’t think I’d find anything in there that would fit me. Or that I would want to leave the house wearing unless I’m intent on getting myself arrested or committed.

Much safer and more sane to pick someone closer to my age, I suppose. I think Judi Dench is an amazingly beautiful woman, inside and out. She proves it’s not at all impossible to have wrinkles and grey hair and still manage to look like a million bucks. Helen Mirren is another lovely lady who always looks perfectly put together. I’d take advice, fashion and otherwise, from either one of them. But I’m also glad I really don’t have to worry much about how I look since there’s never a lot of people buzzing around me snapping my picture for some magazine or posting it on the internet. How stressful would that be? I just try not to embarrass my children. Not saying I always get it right, but I do make a bit of an effort, if only so I won’t stand out like a crazy person in family pictures.

Personally, style-wise, I’m in a rather deep ‘black with silver accessories’ rut and can’t get out. Mostly because I don’t really want to, except for the occasional deep purple or dark blue which is comfortably close to black and therefore grudgingly acceptable. It’s all about comfort really. I know crocs exude their own special fashion hell, but they’re the most comfortable thing I’ve ever put on my feet and that’s why I wear them.

Black pants, black shapeless long or short-sleeved soft-knit shirt, silver earrings, purple watch. That basically describes my entire wardrobe. I might raid a celebrity closet, but then I wouldn’t be able to blend into the background unnoticed and unremarked. So probably Judi’s clothes are under no threat from me.

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