Monday - 12.17.12
You know your a redneck when you go to a fancy five star restaurant in your construction work boots. Yes, I have always known that I am a little bit country, not white trash, just redneck... get your hillbillies right. Not just because I started listen to country music a few year back or because I can't wait to go to the county fair to get my roasted corn smothered in mayo or because the most comfortable shoes I own are my cowboy boots. Yes all those things combined do make me slightly redneck, but mostly because I have no desire to be among the high class, rich and famous.
I have had moments in my life when I had money, I wasn't rich but I had a substantial amount in the bank. Followed by times when I would do anything short of sell my body to put dinner on the table. Right now I'm somewhere in between, which is perfect. Actually it was the cause of this post, see last weekend my hubby thought it would be nice to take me out to dinner somewhere top of the line. We were in Santa Monica for a work event of his and he promised to take me out after. Now I'm easy when it comes to food, pretty much I love to eat, so if it looks and smells editable I'll probably eat it.
We pull up to a hotel a block up from 3rd Street, it just reeks of fancy, all glowing neon orange lights and loads of valet swarming around. Now keep in mind my hubby is in the clothes he worked in all day, which consists of jeans, a t-shirt and filthy work boots You know a good ole fashion construction man. Me, I'm in jeans, a nice black & white striped fat I mean maternity shirt, black a little dressier than UGG boots and a bright yellow pea coat. Not my most fashionable night, seeing as it started in a room full of drinking power linemen and I'm getting to fat & lazy to fit in my cute clothes or heels for that matter.
We walk into the hotel and immediate I feel out of place. The front desk receptionist flashes me a "Are you lost?" look as we walk up to the front desk. We ask for the restaurant, the front desk manager replies "Well I doubt they have anything, usually you have to book a reservation to get a table. But the lounge or bar might be open." Great I think to myself that's where I feel more comfortable anyway, even if I am pregnant and can't drink! We step into the elevator, push the top floor button labeled "The Penthouse Restaurant" and laugh the whole way up about how funny we look at a place like this.
The moment we step off the elevator the host and hostess have that same look on their faces. I ask if there are any available tables and of course there are not. They ask us "Bar or lounge?" You better believe my fat butt wants to sit on a couch! We sit down next to the window, which probably has the best view in the whole restaurant anyway because we're looking right at the beach. The waitress comes with a drink menu the size of a billboard (which doesn't do me any good) and appetizer list the size of half a sheet of paper. Nothing looks remotely appetizing.
When she comes back we ask for "real menus" which she promptly brings back over. I key in on the fact that they have lamb, now one thing I've learned in all my years is if you want good lamb, you get it at a pricey place. So that's what I ordered, my hubby orders a cheese sampler (that was pretty amazing) and some sort of pasta dish. The lamb was like cutting butter... fantastic, hands down. I was especially excited when I figured out what the sauce was and how easy it would be to duplicate. As far as I could tell it was a just brown gravy mix with brown sugar and nutmeg.
Don't get me wrong the food was to die for but the atmosphere was the part that made me crack up. We sat across from a sad threesome of middle aged divorcees being hit on by a couple of preppy college boys. To my right sits three not to shabby, well accessorized college boys enjoying the world smallest slider and fries. And to the left of us, a double date of over the hill hippies complete in floral shirts. MY hubby and I love people watching and just get a kick out of peoples dress & behavior. This place was prime for people attempting to be classy but failing miserably. Although tonight we were the cause of much chatter I'm sure. But least we weren't acting fake, we perfectly represented the real people we are. A middle class construction worker taking his pregnant wife out for a nice dinner.
All in all it was a great time spent with my love enjoying delicious food and judgmental stares, both ways. And further convinced me that I'm perfectly happy being redneck!
We walk into the hotel and immediate I feel out of place. The front desk receptionist flashes me a "Are you lost?" look as we walk up to the front desk. We ask for the restaurant, the front desk manager replies "Well I doubt they have anything, usually you have to book a reservation to get a table. But the lounge or bar might be open." Great I think to myself that's where I feel more comfortable anyway, even if I am pregnant and can't drink! We step into the elevator, push the top floor button labeled "The Penthouse Restaurant" and laugh the whole way up about how funny we look at a place like this.
The moment we step off the elevator the host and hostess have that same look on their faces. I ask if there are any available tables and of course there are not. They ask us "Bar or lounge?" You better believe my fat butt wants to sit on a couch! We sit down next to the window, which probably has the best view in the whole restaurant anyway because we're looking right at the beach. The waitress comes with a drink menu the size of a billboard (which doesn't do me any good) and appetizer list the size of half a sheet of paper. Nothing looks remotely appetizing.
When she comes back we ask for "real menus" which she promptly brings back over. I key in on the fact that they have lamb, now one thing I've learned in all my years is if you want good lamb, you get it at a pricey place. So that's what I ordered, my hubby orders a cheese sampler (that was pretty amazing) and some sort of pasta dish. The lamb was like cutting butter... fantastic, hands down. I was especially excited when I figured out what the sauce was and how easy it would be to duplicate. As far as I could tell it was a just brown gravy mix with brown sugar and nutmeg.
Don't get me wrong the food was to die for but the atmosphere was the part that made me crack up. We sat across from a sad threesome of middle aged divorcees being hit on by a couple of preppy college boys. To my right sits three not to shabby, well accessorized college boys enjoying the world smallest slider and fries. And to the left of us, a double date of over the hill hippies complete in floral shirts. MY hubby and I love people watching and just get a kick out of peoples dress & behavior. This place was prime for people attempting to be classy but failing miserably. Although tonight we were the cause of much chatter I'm sure. But least we weren't acting fake, we perfectly represented the real people we are. A middle class construction worker taking his pregnant wife out for a nice dinner.
All in all it was a great time spent with my love enjoying delicious food and judgmental stares, both ways. And further convinced me that I'm perfectly happy being redneck!
Thanks for sharing another adventure with me!
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I'm so glad you stayed and had some great food and good times people watching! I HATE feeling out of place and would have left...and I know that's totally not the way to be. I would have missed out on a great meal!
ReplyDeleteThanks for linking up with the GtKY hop again =)
I can totally picture this whole scene! There is nothing more irritating than the condescending looks from snobby waiters/clerks/salesmen! I love that you two had a great meal & a cheese plate?! My brother?! What has happened to him?! I love it!!!
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