It was the best of meals; it was the worst of meals I would experience this holiday season.  As I have mentioned in a previous blog, I spend my Decembers absolutely engrossed in planning for the upcoming CES Trade Show in January. 

So many of my meals have taken place during business meetings, which sounds very glamorous but is really a sign that I am working too many hours.  This week, I experienced two very different dining endeavors.

Finding a good restaurant – a quality restaurant – in Northern New Jersey can be a challenge.  There are some truly wonderful casual dining selections, but for business-level dining, the pickings’ are slim. 

Best of Meals
Monday night, I dined with our PR Agency, my boss and my colleague at the one good upscale restaurant I know of in Englewood Cliffs—Grissini, which is an elegant Italian restaurant located off Route 9W.

I have eaten at Grissini’s several times now for various business functions.  Each time, I am pleased and surprised with my meal.  They offer warm, welcoming service, elegant décor, and excellent food.

Each meal at Grissini’s begins with an antipasto of smoked sopresata, Parmigianino Regiano cheese along with green and black olives.  As always, I took out my camera and photographed the antipasto to share with you, my dear readers. 

My new boss, however, was quite surprised.

“Are you taking a picture of the antipasto?” he asked.

My colleague Jose spoke up, “Oh, is this the first time you are eating out with Deborah?”

My agency began to chuckle, Alissa informed him, “Deb’s a food blogger.”

My boss looked at me quizzically.  “Are your really going to post a picture of the antipasto?” he asked me again.

“But of course,” I responded!  My readers would expect nothing less

First, I chose a bottle of wine.  Once again, choosing wine for a meal when I am not paying for it is a precarious position.  I knew that at least half the table wanted red.  Since Grissini is an Italian restaurant, I thought it best that we order an Italian wine.  I opted for the Prunotto 2000 Barbara de Asti.

I began my meal with a simple shrimp and avocado salad:

I could not decide on a main course.  They had several spectacular specials to choose from, including a fillet of Dover sole, a penne with lamb ragu and fettuccini with white truffles.

I faced a dilemma.  Dover sole is my favorite fish, but I’m just a girl who can’t say” no” to white truffles.  Michael, the head of our agency faced the same decision, so we decided to spit the difference.  He ordered the Dover sole and while I happily indulged in truffly goodness.

For dessert, Michael ordered a fabulous frozen concoction of white chocolate stuffed with citrus and berry sorbet. 

Worst of Meals:
The next day, we had our department-wide holiday luncheon.  Now, I sure most of you sit through your own version of forced pleasantries at the company functions.  So, you must be familiar with the comedy that accompanies a department holiday luncheon.

Each year, we end up at a restaurant in Edgewater, New Jersey called Le Jardin.  For a restaurant with a French name and French cuisine advertising, their entire menu is Italian.  It is not authentic Italian, like Grissini, but Americanized Italian, and second-rate at that.  The one thing Le Jardin has going for it is its stunning view.  Situated directly on the waterfront, our tables overlook Manhattan’s skyline.

At 11:45am, our department made the mad dash to their cars.  As each group paired up into carpools, my boss came out and asked me to travel with him.  After accepting his kind offer, I called my colleague Lisa to have her meet us in the lobby.

Dialing quickly, I didn’t look at the number before hitting the “send” button of my cell phone.  As soon as she said “hello,” I asked her to meet us in the lobby as our boss was waiting.

“You dialed the wrong person,” came the response from the other end of the phone.  I did not call my friend Lisa.  In fact, I called my friend Lee Anne. 

“Oh my god!  I feel so silly!  I have been meaning to call you anyway,’ I explained as we began chatting.

We talked about refrigerators as I got into the elevator.  She explained to me that she has a 19-inch fridge.  I informed her that our standard size for a French door refrigerator is 36-inches.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake.  You see, I was having this conversation in a packed elevator.  Everyone else in the elevator can only hear my side of the conversation. 

No sooner did I mention “36-inches,” than a groundswell of chuckling erupted around me. 

I continued my conversation in self-conscious confinement.  We addressed shipping timeframes for the refrigerator.  Lee Anne asked if she could schedule a delivery with the woman that handles shipping.

“I think she can handle that,” I informed her.

A second round of chuckling burst out and evolved into roaring laughter. 

We arrived at the restaurant and began our meals with a series of pre-ordered appetizers, including crab cakes, mozzarella and tomato salad, lobster tails fra Diablo, fried calamari, and steamed mussels.  With the exception of the cheese, everything else look like it cam pre-cooked, so the kitchen had only to re-heat it and serve.

Nothing looked particularly appetizing.  However, as soon as the food hit the table, my boss began with a toast.  So, we sat and listened to his holiday wishes and sat there looking at the food.  He then asked another colleague to make a toast as well.  She spoke for a few moments.  We kept looking at the food. 

It quickly became obvious to me that every member of our department has to get up and make a toast. 

We are all looking at the food.  The crab cakes that once looked mediocre at best have become more appealing to me.  They are starting to look good. 

Eventually, my turn came.  I made my speech short and sweet and passed the glass to another colleague. 

At this point, I was anticipating the crab cakes that sat centimeters from my plate.  They looked like the best crab cakes ever.  If only the speeches would end, I could taste them!

One of our field market reps began his toast.  He talked about his mission to engage consumers during the last three feet “OR 36 INCHES” of the sale.

My face gradated across multiple shades of red and purple.

Another colleague interrupted, “36 inches, that’s three feet!”
“Why yes,” said Scott.  “So it is.”

I thought I would die.  The crab cakes were staring at me.  “Maybe no one would notice if I just took one,” I thought to myself.  I looked around to find everyone else eyeing them too.  I waited.

I drank two glasses full of water – just from sipping after each toast – and my bladder wanted to explode.  I couldn’t get up and walk away while they were toasting.

The torture – ahem – speeches finally ended.  The feeding frenzy began.  We cleaned each plate of appetizers.  I mistakenly thought these apps were our entire meal.  I was wrong.

The waiter came out and asked us “how many of you ordered the Caesar’s Salad?”

“Wait a minute!  We have to remember what we ordered?”  I have a vague memory of seeing choices for a holiday menu eons ago.  I don’t remember what I ordered!

My friend Lisa took a bite of the Ceasar’s salad and pushed it aside.  “It’s from a bottle!  How does a restaurant serve Ceasar’s dressing from a bottle?  This sucks.”

Next came my fettuccini and lobster entrée.  First, I think they used old fish to make their fish stock because the sauce base was really “fishy.”  This overly fishy sauce killed any other flavors that may have once existed within the dish.  The pasta came from a box.  I know this because it still had a firm texture to it when I ate it.  The mushrooms had a rubbery texture that reminded me of wet asphalt – not unlike the road surfaces we drove on to get to the restaurant in the first place.

As soon as the head of my department got up and left the table, I looked to the crew that had listened to my elevator conversation and said, “Just for the record, I was talking about refrigerators!”  They burst out in laughter again and informed me that they took bets during their car ride over on how much of my conversation they could fit into Scott’s speech.

Finally, this holiday extravaganza came to an end.  We returned to our offices, our meetings, and our enormous workload, and went on with our day.