Snobby Steak

Can I be a snob for a minute? Okay, good. Here goes:

Bryn picked me up after work on Saturday and we went out to Redmond to meet his friend Jesse and Suzanne (Jesse's ladyfriend who is visiting from Oxford). We all went out to dinner, Jesse and Suzanne looking somewhat dressy, Bryn in cargo shorts and a bright orange t-shirt, and myself in my sweaty black and grey work clothes. Obviously, Bryn and I weren't really prepared for a fancy night on the town. We didn't really have to worry. It didn't happen.

All I knew was that Jesse had made reservations for dinner at a steak place at 8:45. Once we pulled into the parking lot and I saw that it was a restaurant in a tiny little strip-mall setting, I realized I wouldn't have to worry about being underdressed. I can't complain about the food, my steak was GREAT and so were all the accompanying tidbits. (Speaking of tidbits, you should go to Tidbit on Capitol Hill for appetizers immediately.) What was funny was the little things that let you know the difference between a $30 steak served with sides and a salad included and a $60 steak served a la carte.

When Bryn asked if they could cook his steak au poivre and the waitress replied, "I don't know if our kitchen girl knows what that means, she's Hispanic," I knew that, Redmond or no, we were definitely in the suburbs. The bartender was passing by and confirmed that Marcella (said kitchen girl) wouldn't know what that meant. For that matter, the waitress didn't know what it mean either. There were other things, little things, nothing terrible. I felt jaded and snobby for noticing these things, but glad that I wasn't pissed off about them. If anything, it made me laugh, which is a good thing.