My mother-in-law and cousin showed up around 2. We ended up going to IKEA, which, I mean, seriously? Three chicks excited about a baby in Ikea? Who thought that was a good idea? Particularly on a Sunday afternoon when everyone else in the world thinks Ikea is the coolest place in town?
We bought this:
And this (which I’m not sure I actually like but we’ll see if it’s cute when it’s in the nursery — if not, I have the receipt!):
… all for the nursery. SPOILED little child!
And then we went out to dinner at a restaurant called West50. As fun as the rest of the day was, this place tried its damndest to ruin it. First, our 6:45 reservation was not recorded — no big deal as Sunday nights are pretty dead, but still a harbinger of things to come. When we were all seated, drinks arrived promptly, so that was great. I’d checked out the menu online and things looked pretty good, but when we arrived they also had a “Mardi Gras” special menu going on with all sorts of Cajun & Creole dishes so that was super exciting, since I love Southern-style food. (Why did I expect a Canadian restaurant to be able to pull off Southern cuisine? I don’t know.)
Chris and his brother both order the braised beef medallions. Five minutes later the waitress returns to tell him they’re out of stock. So they ask about the pork chop instead, which she promptly says is out of stock. Okay, let’s be real: they have 9 entrées listed. At least 2 of them are unavailable. That’s over 20% of the entrées. Chris debates the ribs, but at $20 for half a rack, decides against it. Whatever; they settle for a hamburger and a pizza.
Appetizers had not arrived as of 8pm. That’s a full hour of waiting, in a vastly empty restaurant, for two bowls of soup, a veggie platter, and some cornbread. Finally we get on the waitress’ case. She brings the two bowls of soup… which each have a film on the top of them, like they’ve been sitting around. What the fuck? A few minutes later, the veggie platter arrives and we send the soups back. A few minutes after that, the soups and the cornbread arrive.
The soup has andouille sausage in it, which was not listed on the menu (only chicken was). Rather than bring more frustration to our table by bringing this up, I just eat around it. It’s pretty tasty, fairly spicy, but it’s a really familiar spiciness that I can’t quite put a finger on — later, though, it’ll be revealed.
When the appetizers have been cleared for awhile, a waitress walks past our table bearing two dishes and sets them at the table behind us — a table that came in a good half hour after us. She turns away, then turns back… picks up the dishes… and brings them to us. Whoops, wrong table! One is mine and one is my mother-in-law’s.
Mine is supposed to be chicken with red rice, black beans, okra, baby corn, and roasted peppers. There are four roasted chunks of pepper sitting alongside a hunk of chicken that’s covered with some crazy sauce, and oodles of rice. The other veggies are nowhere to be found — until I start digging through the rice and find some tiny little chunks of okra and baby corn, along with a handful of black beans.
My mother-in-law had ordered the “Italian four cheese chicken supreme”, which is chicken stuffed with cheese. It arrives as a chicken leg and thigh. Now, I dunno about you, but when I see a chicken dish for $19, I assume I’m getting breast meat. She’s pissed off by this.
I realize that my own chicken is not a breast either, but a deboned thigh.
We sit there with our two dishes in front of us, wondering when the other five people at the table are going to be served.
A few minutes later my brother-in-law and father-in-law are served, followed shortly by Chris and his cousin. That’s six of seven. My BIL’s girlfriend is sitting there waiting……… for her salad. Yes, her cold salad comes out after our hot dishes, and it comes so far “after” that my BIL has time to go up to the bar and chew out the manager for the shitty service. They both work in the restaurant industry — she manages the bar that he works at part-time — and he is pissed.
Altogether, though, the food is pretty good. The waitress, who is growing increasingly meek and shy as our malcontent grows, informs us that our appetizers will be taken off the bill. I had ordered my chicken extra spicy, but it’s pretty much just a bland tomato-y taste; when she asks me how it is and I tell her as much, she asks if I’d like her to bring out a side order of Sriracha Hot Sauce.
Whoa, wait, what? Sriracha? Am I at a fucking Thai restaurant? Didn’t I order a Cajun dish? Shouldn’t this be spicy because of cayenne, paprika, and whatnot? I (of course) say no. Now I realize what the familiar taste in my spicy southern-style chicken soup was — I cooked some shrimp with Sriracha for dinner on Friday night. My BIL’s girlfriend is mortified at how everything is going so far; she made the reservations here because she’s been numerous times before, including for a big birthday party, and always had a blast with great food and great service.
After the dinner plates are cleared, we wait to be offered coffee, tea, and dessert menus. Our waitress comes to the table with a stack of napkins and spoons. We’re totally getting a free dessert! This is awesome. We’re served a dessert sampler platter, so I do get to have a taste of everything (including a delish fried dough/beaver tail/funnel cake, whatever you call it in your region) after all. It’s a satisfying way to end an otherwise frustrating meal.
As she is prone to do when family is around, Maia is incredibly still throughout the entire night. I feel her move here and there, enough to let me know she’s alright. People don’t get to touch her while she’s moving, but they do get to feel how ‘hard’ my belly is where she is under the skin! Neither the spicy soup, nor the entrée, nor the desserts get her going, which really surprises me.
I’m sure this ‘review’ is probably way more info than most of you are interested in, but hey… it’s my blog!
Tomorrow I head to the midwife for another stretch & sweep. I’m actually looking forward to it, to see what kind of progress, if any, my cervix has made in the last week. And I’m really hoping it’ll bring on my labour. I’d like to get this show on the road.