Sunday, April 12, 2009

Sloppy Seconds!

Let it never be said that DDB doesn't stick out the good ol' proverbial and literal neck from time to time for its loyal readership! Sure, we could have been shalacked into hallucinations of pastel polka dots by the bamboo stalks of jPan and returned missing a mental l*tt*r or two or had our astroblogospherical debut cut short due to being served inside a chicken parmesan sammich, but nothing has yet compared to the trepidation upon approaching our next target: Second Helpings, the unassuming if beyellowed-awninged exercise in institution-alarm-sounding finger-painting on the corner of 7th ave and 9th st!!!

Maybe it was the suspicion that the clout (and unavoidable preferential treatment) that DDB now garners (alas and alack for the early and innocent DDB days!) through the trademark batting glove accoutrement would be lost within a clientele delta (a clien-delta! LOL) fed directly by some bike-messenger tributary; or maybe it was the sunglass'd patron glaring out at DDB through the front window (as menacing as one can be while seated behind a mesh-basin of oversized Legos and fingering idly his "spot me from space" Folio edition); or maybe it was the cavalcade of angry, trash-wielding minions that streamed out of the front door and into the street? (no coincidence that that trap door is open!!) Suffice it to say, DDB went into semi-covert stealth-ish mode, pocketing the glove and affecting an air of bemused casualness as it whipped out the cell phone and concomitant camera. Oh what a funny text message I'm reading outside of your establishment... my mother is just incorrigible... CLICK!  

After maneuvering Frogger-like past the mobile trash bags and ducking the daggers being cast in ol' DDB's direction, entrance was made and primary (if "ultimate" remained unclear and worrisome) mission accomplished. And yet the enemy is clever and his methods multi- and nef-arious (nervous LOL!!!) for against the font-etically inclined, nothing could have been more radiantly overwhelming. There were chalkboards with every conceivable type of script, color and emphasis; pieces of information laminated, underlined, scribbled, taped onto tip jars, doubly-underlined, painted onto loose tiles, penned onto preexistent worded surfaces, pasted onto glass, stuck unceremoniously into the food itself, hanging from the ceiling... I was half-'specting the daily specials to be scrawled in ink on the waiter's forearm!!!

Standing transfixed, but with enough awareness to notice that the consumers were just as varied, as if each compelled by a different style - say the all-caps, bold, Garamond-looking MUFFINS for the real estate brokers, and other epilepsy-friendly adverts for the mothers with child, the stray Williamsburgers after a reluctant walk through the park, the jogger holding one hand to get her pulse, the other to cradle her cucumber juice, the posse of painters on break, the aging ex-expat couple, the pug-adorned, the ruthless if now inconspicuous culinary skewer-er (DDB! what what!), the beautiful people, the highly conspicuous francophile with a copy of L'Etranger draped over his arm... 

And yet, out of this (j)pandemonium of information rose the impression that the food didn't look or sound all that bad! Maybe DDB had just been standing there long enough for the editorial appetite to double, who knows, but them there Macaroni & Cheese and Wild Rice looks pretty good! Sure, you have to ignore the fact that the large placard that declaims things like "Organic Swiss Chard w/ Cashew, Mint Dressing (Raw, Vegan, Gluten Free)" is plopped onto the serving bowl AND that you're thinking what to say when you're served your food on an unwashed frisbee AND that you have to bite your tongue and not ask about the Second Helpings catch phrase "Food with a conscience" (what, was "conscientious food" or "food with consciousness?" taken!? LOL!!!) because the lady handling your money is stonewalling you like nobody's business after an already tentative foray into conversation, BUT all that's forgiven and you're free to enjoy what are some truly tasty and delicious and interesting ~and, again,~ tasty treats. 

Of course, as soon as you sit down you find yourself either remembering the sign "your aim is greatly appreciated" from the bathroom OR that you once were tricked in college into eating a meal cooked by your co-op living friend OR looking squarely at the adverts / services-rendered board which boasts such appetite-challenging items as soul ecology, jamsberry will teach you guitar, herbal alchemy apothecary, naked yoga for men, revitalizing superfoods for superenergy, naturopathic doctor, BodyLoveTM by Maat: "love is action, it works if you work it!" (DDB couldn't have said it better itself, Maat!), and perhaps the one which still causes something on the order of seeing yer conversation partner's eyes dart nervously right above your head, "holistic dentistry." 

But focus! close those eyes, forget that you counted the word "organic" 43 times on your way from bathroom to table or that people actually eat something called "spelt" (I sure hope I SPELT it right!!! LOL.) and concentrate on the deliciousness of the food offered... did the waitress offer me a free sample by digging her fingers into to Organic Chick Peas with Apples and Oranges Vinaigrette...? HEY! Focus. This is some good timey eatin'... which explains why DDB had to go back a few times to confirm and reconfirm the tastiness, to get the Third and Forth Helpings, as it were! 

So whadrya waiting fo'? Get thee to some Cucumber Juice, post haste!

1 comment:

  1. "the Second Helpings catch phrase 'Food with a conscience' (what, was 'conscientious food' or 'food with consciousness?' taken!? LOL!!!)"

    Oh DDB, you are truly ~outrageous~. Gotta say, I'm half-s'prised you hadn't the mind to take a bat to that Third Helping of yours, tasty and delicious as it may have been, knocking it back into unconsciousness where its high-falutin, do-goodin, mis*spelt* booty (foody?) clearly belongs!!