Wanna See Some Pics of What I'm Eating Right this Second?

We, here at HIYLH, always used to be annoyed by people whipping out camera phones at restaurants, snapping photos of their haricot verts, and posting the images on the Internet so that their friends and Linkedin connections could be enthralled in real time by the stunning displays of virtual green beans. For the longest time (this is just a figure of speech; the longest time is actually the eta of the D Train), we could not understand why this insipid practice was so popular amongst the madding crowd of a certain age. 

Even more mysterious to us was why anyone could care less what somebody else was eating while dining out last week, or why they would bother breathlessly to peruse a slideshow about it, especially if the photographer were not standing right there next to them, peering giddily over their shoulder, on the verge of crying a river lest the audience (presumably with nothing better to do with his or her life) pretend that studying a digitized reproduction of some half-eaten entre was the most fascinating thing to come along since daylight savings time was pushed up a few weeks.

When we consulted the dictionary, we half-expected this phenomenon to be cited as one of the many examples of the word “stupid.”  We were, notably, unable to test this theory, as we do not consult dictionaries, preferring, instead, to just go with our instinct on spellings. And Definitions.  And facts. Etc.

We bucked the trend as long as we could. (Taking pictures of our food, that is, not consulting dictionaries.  We’re still proudly bucking that trend).

But when it became evident that we would no loner be able to escape the taunts of our peers, accusing us of harboring luddite-sensibilities and worse, we went from bucking to buckling. Accordingly, now whenever we frequent the many victuallers scattered hither and yon throughout the shire, we come equipped with a fully-charged device, a keen eye, and the perspective of a seasoned auteur, prepared to record the day’s repast for posterity, and also to give the Library of Congress reassurance that it won’t run out of stuff to archive.

Will we admit to a smidgen of guilty pleasure in succumbing to this moronic pastime? Absolutely not!  We hate it. We do it only as a public service, and only grudgingly. If it were up to us, we would only do take-out from the Hunan Kosher Happy Fun Time Eating Place, and what we scarfed down would be nobody’s business but our own. But as we are programmed by our societal caste to conduct ourselves in the spirit of noblesse oblige (not given over to wasting time confirming the definitions of haughty-sounding phrases by cracking open a dictionary, as you will recall, we are guessing that this term applies to us), we do our duty, and we do so without complaint.  Kvetching a bit, but without complaint.

The recent results of our mix of gastronomic and photographic escapades are offered below free of charge. We will caution you, Dear Reader (we trust you are the only reader) just this once, so pay attention: Do not gaze overlong at these images. Their hypnotic qualities have the power to transport you to realms best left to the terrifying recesses of the subconscious. Should you be foolish enough not to heed this warning, we cannot be responsible for the sad results.  

The cornbeefed omelette at Grumpy's Breakfast Nook is to stub your toe for. Not that great, but the coffee refills are free if you ask 26 times. As you can tell from this shot, the portions are huge. Looks scrumptious, no?

Elegance is the catchword at Chez Che's. The soft lighting in the dining room nicely contrasts with the posters of Che Guevara plastered all over the walls. It's a kind of culinary marriage of socialism and capitalism.  Here, for example, is a spartan yet tasty arrangement of Walnuts One Way (basically raw nuts dumped on a plate), accompanied by a stunning Riesling.

Soupçon was featuring a melted bullion cube the day we visited. I think it was beef.  But it might have been chicken.  Or fish.  Not really sure if truth be told.  But doesn't it look good?

At Claudio's Jiggy Fish, they take presentation very seriously. The caviar in this Fish Eggs and Egg Eggs dish had turned by the time it reached our table, but the artistic design of a sturgeon choking on an egg in the center was quite ingenious and well worth preserving with the use of an iPad, nerdiness be damned!

The lighting at Daffy's is crappy. And so is the duck.

Hopefully, the masterful treatment of the baked, stuffed scrod  at the tiny purveyor of the day's catch, Any Port in a Storm, is readily evident from this scene.  The fish is totally skinned. Then the skin is glazed and stuffed inside.  Then the whole thing is baked.  Then the skin is taken out of the interior of the fish and glued back on the outside.  Then the whole thing is fried.  Then the skin is taken off and discarded. Then the fish is sprinkled with almond flakes, or whatever happens to be lying around. Then the whole thing is served on a plate together with a napkin, a plate, a fork, and a knife. Then the whole thing is eaten.  Then the bill comes.  Amazing experience.  Also, expensive.

At Mario's, photography in the dining room is strictly prohibited. We were tossed out into the snow for violating the rule.  As the maître d’ was shoving us out the door, we happened to snap this shot of the headless statue out front.  The legend at the base reads:  "Pincus 'Ming' Mandelbaum, Victoria et Gloria, eh!" We have no idea what it means.

The fare at the Cat House verges on the inedible.  We know a certain someone who refuses to eat it no matter how many times "florentine" is used in the name of the dish. There are no English words that can adequately describe the chazzerai they foisted on us the day we came. The big joke there is that they have daily "specials," but it's the same thing every single day.  No wonder the patrons are sick of it.

This is our favorite picture. It really captures the flavor of the slow-roasted brew ladled with care into wax-coated paper cups by the crotchety retirees at Ye Olde Hoity Toity Cafe Franchise. Look at the size of that plastic lid! Big enough for 4 or 5 Cups On the Run (TM). Can't you just smell the aroma? Doesn't it make you want to get some this instant?  You won't have to go far. There's a YOHTC on practically every corner.  But please don't take pictures of the products there.  How would it be  if everybody did it?