The restaurant where I work is kinda of a peculiar place. That said, I don't think it's hard to stick your nose in the door and get a general sense of it for yourself. Firstly, it's a decently sized place with a full kitchen, which should give you some clues right off the bat. Secondly, there's a full barista station and servers running around like mad - more clues.
Here are some things the restuarant is not:
It's not a corner store. Right now is the height of tourist season, and as awefull as it sounds I have to say it: the thicker the drawl, the thicker the customer. I had a woman come in yesterday and ask me if we had anything "that aint so fanc-ay. Like a good 'ol chocolate chip cookie." If we did have a chocolate chip cookie, it would probably cost you in the area of $7 and be the best damn cookie you've ever had. We're not pretentious, but we do appreciate decent lard and will never, ever sell anybody anything that isn't top of the line.
It's not particularily kid-friendly. Good kids do well there. A tablefull of screaming banshees? Not so much. There's not really anything on the menu for kids, unless you have the only kid on the planet who appreciates portabellos. I should have expected it when a group of four redneck mamas donning torn sweatpants came in with at least a dozen under five, but they didn't order a damn thing that was actually on the menu and I got several complaints about the kids, one of which ran straight into the kitchen while Mama was changing a diaper - yes, that's right - on the table.
It's not a whitespot. Off the same cruise ship, I had a man flabberghasted that we didn't have burgers, or even ground beef on the premisis. There's a burger place right across the street! I don't know what part of 'authentic French cafe-bakery' made this man think 'greasebomb', but it did. And no, nothing comes with fries, and yes, the food is portioned by European standards, which basically translates into 'an ammount that won't leave you bloated and uncomfortable all day'.
And for God's sake, it's a bakery. By the end of the day, we run out of some shit. Ya know why? Because we can't just go into the back freezer and get more.
In other news, I'll soon be a barista. The barista who's training me is very, very passionate about espresso and gave me a stack of books to read on the subject. Barista said I was chosen to learn because I've shown a passion for tea - you're right there - he hopes to see develop for espresso. And it is. I haven't actually wrangled the espresso machine much yet, but he gave me a stack of books to read that I'm working my way through. I'm loving it so far.
In the manner of the French and all things compressed and pressurized for zing, I've been dabbling with my old friend Imagism. So here's a glimpse into my current poetic fancies, just how my weekend went, and what I think of my new piercing:
I loved it best
When a wet leaf slapped the window