Bar Boulud Review: Bar Boulud and waffles
True story. I wanted to talk about the Michelle Obama quote about how she’s proud of her country for the first time, so obviously I went to google. And most of the time I like to look at the headlines to make sure it actually is a result that captures what I want. It looked sorta like it so I clicked on it. Then, I realized something catastrophic had occurred. I was on the FoxNews website. You know, all this talk about data mining at Google and all there impressively smart computer science majors (and yes I was a CS major, and yes I’m impressed by their bigger brains), they still don’t know me. Seriously Mr. Brin? After years and years of storing my data? Me, the guy who openly states that he hates Republicans on his website gets a result from Unfair and Unbalanced? Fail! I’ll quietly wait for Zucks to make me a new search engine that filters out fox. I was looking for the quote because the midterm elections are giving me a feeling like all those folks who love to call themselves “independent thinking moderates” are going to give the other party more seats in Congress. Nevermind that these so-called moderates tolerated eight years of bullshit and deficits and now want to see results after just two years. Srsly? Maybe a two-party system isn’t great but people oughta party up because if the better part of my adult life is run by the party that takes support from rednecks and religious nutjobs, then you’ll find me on top of a bridge too. Food is comforting though. It was that way at Bar Boulud the other day when Steph and I went there for brunch.
Most food lovers feel like eating is communal. This is true. Eating with friends from out of town usually demonstrates this quite well. You don’t see each other often but over a meal, it feels like a weekly ritual. I like it. It’ll never bridge the gap the way foodies want though. Food makes it easier when it can be done. Food doesn’t work miracles. If you think food can work miracles, you’re a foodie. If you think I can sit down with someone who wants to teach creationism in schools and then walk away thinking, “Wow, what a fabulous person!” then you’re mistaken. Food just cannot do that. I will always think people who believe in creationism over evolution are cunt face motherfuckers and I hope they never breed. But of course they do. They’re always the ones that breed the most. Fuck. See this is why I need charcuterie plates during brunch because rednecks might outlaw those one day too. They might say that I can’t love cornichons and have to start calling them little pickles. That’s not a country I could be proud of!
The waffles at Bar Boulud are kind of cute. They’re little waffles if you order the appetizer portion size. They’re not so cute where I won’t eat them. I ate them and they were good. Maybe the food here is slightly pricier than I would normally like, but the food is good so it’s ok. Plus I eat a lot of fast food to offset the cost you know.
True story. The server brought the waffles and I busted out my DSLR. I was all excited to take some pictures and a French dude a couple of seats over was talking to his companion. He nodded towards Steph and my table and said, “Goof”. I was a little caught off guard because you know, the picture taking might be annoying but there’s no flash. Not to mention, dude, you’re like two tables away. Relax. To make matters worse, he said it like three times to make sure I heard his ass. How rude! But like a good Asian, I kept my feelings inside as I seethed and plotted my revenge. Again though, I took it Nanking style and didn’t say a word.
Later on that night I was telling Steph about the dirty name calling and she was like, “I sat right next to you and didn’t hear anyone call you a name, WTF are you talking about?” So I told her about how this dude was calling me a goof over and over again. But apparently I was wrong. He wasn’t calling me names at all, in fact he was more concerned with the food. See, the word for waffles in French is gaufre. To pronounce it, it’s like a mixture between ‘gulf’ and ‘golf’. So the whole time while I was feeling like someone was calling me a name, someone was actually just telling his dining companion about waffles. I’m never going to forget the word for ‘waffle’ in French. It’s going to be the only thing I order next time I go to France.
Oh, go to Bar Boulud. It’s good.
Bar Boulud1900 Broadway.New York, NY 10023212-595-0303
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