Caesar Salad: just when I thought I'd seen it all

[Jenise]

Friends invited us to join them for dinner at the local Indian Casino, an establishment I'll admit to avoiding. The many restaurants have gotten good marks from some people I respect, especially the Steak House. Typical of upscale steak joints, at this one you order your meat and then select salads and vegetable sides a la carte. There were three salad options and I reflexively passed on the caesar because 99% of restaurant caesars are soggy messes involving a bottled creamy version of caesar dressing that is, to me, exceptionally disturbing.

But my friends ordered the caesar, and I was very surprised when our waiter Ryan rolled the cart up to our table--this was going to be a handmade caesar! I love handmade caesars! Why didn't they tell me! I want to change my order!

So Ryan immediately set about making a caesar for four in his extra large wooden salad bowl. In went the anchovies. Great! In went the garlic. Yes! In went the juice of half a lemon and a few squirts of worcestershire. Yes! In went a few substantial grinds of parmesan cheese from a cheese hunk trapped in a crank-style grater. Thatta boy, Ryan! Then he picked up two very small cruets and added the merest dribble of red wine vinegar, maybe a teaspoon. Ditto some golden oil that could have been corn--it wasn't the green of a good olive oil, that's for sure. Uh oh, this isn't right, I thought, totally unable to understand where this was headed. More oil and vinegar is needed than that! And where's the egg? I haven't seen an egg yet. And then he picked up a gravy boat shaped bowl, and with a tablespoon scooped out four large blobs of white creamy stuff, and then from another gravy boat, two more.

I presume these were mayo and sour cream. Euuuwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

So there you have it: a handmade, tableside creamy caesar salad. All that beautiful romaine, coated in...salad ointment. So sad, so WRONG.

Wow! What a waste of pomp.

I tend to get shirty when something that has a set name and recipe isn't what it should be. I'd probably have said
That isn't Caesar salad and if that's the way you do it, I don't want it"

Sort of like ordering bacon and eggs and getting handed a plate of flavoured soya strips (seen that happen). Argh!!

Looks like you made the right call. So did you win or lose at the casino?

[Jenise]

After changing my order to get the caesar, which pleased our friends a great deal and affirmed their original choice (they've been there before), I didn't have the heart to get uppity. Had it been just Bob and I, yeah, I'd have objected.

On the way out, I did manage to earn back $4 of the meal cost. My friend won $96--this was in abour four minutes while the boys went to the mens room.

Hey, want to talk about weird service, though? The restaurant is presided over by a tux, Wilhelm. He seems to be the onduty manager and sommelier and he personally supervises the service at each table--laudable. So when he came to our table to greet us, I said warmly, "So I finally get to meet the famous Wilhelm!" He seemed pleased and asked why famous, "For your fabulous service. I also understand you take a personal interest in the wine," I added while handing him two bottles of '95 Bordeaux I'd brought from home to add to our friends' bottle which was already in a decanter. So off he went to fetch glassware, and meanwhile our waiter took pre-dinner drink orders. Anne and Ron ordered martinis, and I said I'd like a cold glass of chardonnay and was told they were serving something like "Le Perculay". I passed on that and ordered a bottle of Trefethen chardonnay off the good-looking wine list. They were out of that. Okay, how about an X. Out of that too. And what about X? Out. Wilhelm meanwhile returned and said slyly, "I have a lovely French chardonnay for you that's not on the list." He proceeds to describe it in shelftalker terms and goes after same. While he's gone, our friends tell us that on prior visits, they also had a hard time finding a wine on the list that was actually in stock. Wilhelm returns with bottle in hand. It's the Le Perculay. He pours. It's light, crisp, and a bit stemmy. Tastes like a cheap Italian. I am now convinced that it's the only chardonnay they've got, so to test him, I said, "I don't love it and I don't hate it. But at least it's chilled." If he'd had an alternative, he'd have offerred it. He didn't. Instead, he looked pleased, bowed, and claimed that we would not be charged any corkage this night.

Pretty amusing. Fabulous steaks, though, and if you can make enough on your way out to pay for your dinner, well worth the trouble!

Mike, a very apt phrase : "What a waste of pomp".