nice. it's one of those "hot spots". thekitchenis overworked, the servers are dancing about the dining room, there are huddles of people waiting in the corners for a chance to sit down, and an ominous "hustle bustle" fills the air. could i suggest a reservation on a busy night?
i cut the line at the front door, dodged the hungry groups people, and sat right down at the bar.
my first impression of eastland cafe from a romantic standpoint is, unless you've actually gotten past that period of uncertainty, and no longer are awkwardly making small talk with your date, don't come here as a pair, it's just not that romantic. however, come for an earlier dinner or lunch, sit outside on the lovely back patio, and you may score big. but who said this was a review of the "best place to precede with lovemaking"? i did... and this is precisely what has been on my mind recently.
food is love, love is food. okay, i'll spare you the vague idioms. we eat to nourish ourselves, that is fundamental. but we also eat to share social interactions, to mutually experience a pleasure that is of culinary excellence. or to just be in the company of loved ones while do what we primal beings do best, eat.
we impress people with food. we expose ourselves and our friends to new flavors of food and beverage. we try to get laid by spending exorbitant amounts of money at fine restaurants. we get drunk and confess our love or hate for someone or thing. food is also hate, sometimes we hate ourselves, so we eat more... and more. then we hate ourselves for doing that; a closed circle entraps. sometimes we hate certain ingredients or certain methods of preparation. sometimes we have such a good palate, and have acquired exotic tastes, that anything 'run of the mill' is hated or at least looked down upon.
food is social too! unless you are like me and go out to fine restaurants alone, only to critique the food.
the eastland cafe is not on my list of fine restaurants in nashville to review. i knew this by making a judgement based on the menu, website, and customer reviews. i had no lack of faith that eastland was a good restaurant, i just knew it wasn't in the same league as for instance, it's slightly more posh other half, park cafe. i ate at eastland last night only because i wanted a full page of the park/eastland story. this would hopefully supply me with enough data to complete my evaluation on park cafe, a finer dining establishment to be reviewed in my blog.
sitting at the bar in eastland cafe, i ordered a first course entitled, 'goat cheese brulee with local honey, grilled flatbread, oven roasted tomatoes and peppers, balsamic syrup, and chives. to pair, an ice cold prosecco, a near perfect match. my appetizer arrived, there was nothing brulée about! it does mean burnt in french, and not only was there no burnt goat cheese, there really wasn't much of a goat cheese feature in this goat cheese dish at all. merely a ball of goat cheese on the side of the plate. i was hoping for something more like a custard. but, that cheese, flatbread, and honey were such a match for the prosecco, that i was happy, enough.
i cut right to the dessert, peach cobbler, a special that night. it was a quaint preparation of lightly cooked peaches, sugar, and butter, topped with a light pastry. fundamentally good, but missing a kicker ingredient; cinnamon or ginger would have supported the peach nicely.
however, the real problem lingered in the wares. the mini, cast-iron skillet this cobbler was prepared in, still exuded that lovely metallic taste. total failure; the peachy goodness had been all barred up with metal. oh well, the muscat washed away the woes and that terrible flavor, and set me slightly past sobriety.
i settled up with the bar tender, telling her all about the experience i just had. it was easy to complain about the food to the bartender. bartenders generally consider themselves the least connected tokitchenand therefore take the least amount of personal blame forkitchenblunders. a completely invalid argument it may be, it alleviated me of maintaining tact when i bitched about the food.
i left and went to rosepepper cantina for a mexican beer.