True Story Club will soon feature restaurant reviews by the Fremont County Foodie. Reviews won't just be limited to Fremont County, Colorado. Anytime, the Fremont County Foodie can make a break across county lines and eat--there will be a review.
OK, your new reviewer is really The Queen of Questionable Taste. Questionable taste in antiques, collectibles and a spouse. What's the difference of adding food to the list. So, you can be assured the Queen is also totally unqualified to write restaurant reviews.
Actually the Fremont Foodie has a small, very small resume, of fine dining experience. About a decade ago I decided to apply for a position at a major Colorado newspaper as a...Newspaper delivery person? The editor-in-chief? Ha! Not with my majestic grammar skills. I applied for the lofty position of restaurant reviewer. The editor of the arts and entertainment section emailed back and said he was slightly amused by my gallant, but novice attempt. OK, he didn't say that, but I can read and write between the lines. He did say I was is the top three candidates for the position. Then he never emailed back. I think what he forgot to tell me was that only three people applied and I was in dead last.
The Queen of Questionable Taste & The Fremont County Foodie's Stunt Double
I couldn't find where one even could attend the University of Restaurant Reviewers. So I gave up my dream of getting paid to be a glutton, I mean a gourmand.
Pictured above is my stunt double. You see, it is imperative that I sneak into restaurants anonymously. I suppose when I whip out my huge, decade-old camera that still uses floppy discs--I will be found out. But maybe not. It seems everyone whips it out--and then posts a review on Yelp or some such site.
Yes, you will be yelping when you read my take on what the eating world has to offer.
My only other brush with real fine dining (outside of venturing off the dollar menu at McDonald's) was the time I slightly ticked off celebrity chef, Lidia Bastianich.
Let me back track. The King of Impeccable Taste and I were in New York many years ago visiting relatives. Why golly! All the tall buildings and that lady holding the torch, really set our country bumpkin hearts a flutter.
I had watched Lidia's cooking show on PBS for years. This was before her son, Joe, became a TV star on such shows as Master Chef and Restaurant Start-up.
My relatives decided to stay home one day, and the King and I set off from Staten Island to Manhattan. We were looking for Lidia's restaurant--Felidia. But we don't know New York City. But we found one of Joe's restaurant's. I can't remember the name of it.
Joe Bastianich
Joe wasn't there. And that was fine, since we hadn't seen him on TV and wouldn't have recognized him.
We ate. We died twice. The first time was when we were eating. The food was so good. I remember not what we ate, but we didn't care. Best eats ever. We died the second time when we got the bill. It was $130 for two lunches. And we had mineral water, since the King and I rarely drink wine or other spirits.
This was about a decade ago, when $130 was equivalent to about $200. And way before the King got a decent job. We didn't care if we had to sell our plasma to pay our credit card bill when we got back to Colorado--because we had just stepped into the real world of fine dining.
We went back to my relatives' house and told them we had spent $130 on lunch and didn't care. In my family (yes, Italian--well, sort of--Sicilian, which some people don't consider real Italians) spending over $7 on lunch is high treason. To say that side of my family are thrifty Sicilians is an understatement.
Something is my crazed eyes told my relatives that if we came running back and insisting they go with us to Joe's mother's restaurant, even though it was over $7 per head, it had to be serious.
Since my relatives are thrifty, we offered to pay. But we suggested we just order two lunches for the four of us and split them. They agreed to that. But once they got inside and saw was it was really about--they lost their grip and ordered several lunches.
Even though my relatives are New York born and raised Italians, they had never heard of Lidia Bastianich.
Lidia Bastianich
"Oh, my!" I gushed to my cousin,"I watch Lidia's cooking show on PBS every chance I get, which is odd since I can't cook my way out of a paper bag and don't understand fine dining or cooking. The only words I really understand when she speaks are olive oil, sausage and pasta. There is just something about that lady and her show I like."
My cousin nodded and didn't reply because her face was stuffed with some raspberry-pear ravioli or something. Her eyes were crossing in ecstasy and she made it clear that she still didn't get why I was gushing over Lidia, but agreed the food was the best she'd ever had.
We sat there so long, that all the other diners had pretty much left and it was getting into prep time for dinner. My cousin went to the restroom.
I was looking at the bill, that was close to the price of a small country--but did not care. Yes, that delicious. The King and I and my cousin's husband were chatting when I saw HER out of the corner of my eye.
I have a pretty soft voice and did not mean for my voice to carry. "Oh, my God!" I nudged the King," Look there's Lidia!!!"
She was walking across the dining room, apparently on her way out after a long day. I truly did not mean for her to hear me.
Her body language indicated my screeching had reached her ears and it ticked her off slightly, but she shrugged it off and strode to our table and graciously asked us how everything was. I was mortified, because I had NO intention of her hearing me and coming over. I am rather an introvert.
I couldn't stop gushing, even though I could see she was tired. I told her I watched her on PBS and asked her to sign her newest cookbook for me. She did. What a lady.
The three of us are sitting there in shock after she left. The King was as big a Lidia fan as I was--even before we ate her food. He's usually a little more extroverted and he couldn't say a word, except thank you.
My cousin's husband didn't know who she was, so he just said thanks for the good food.
The door closed as Lidia left her famous Felidia and my cousin returned from the restroom. We told her that she missed Lidia. "Darn!" she yelled. "I always miss everything!" Now, my cousin is the extrovert in the group and would have loved Lidia.
And that is my only brush with fine dining. So, rest assured, I don't know my arse from a souffle. Nor, do I apparently know to use my inside voice when Lidia walks by. So, all that will conspire to get you the most questionable restaurant reviews money can't buy.
