Lux Squared

Two dinners in a row at the Lux along with some sterling conversation.


Yes, but is there any fricassee is in it?

I was happy for all of my Muslim and Jewish friends in that the Lux folks had clearly identified the non-halal/kosher main course so they could avoid any unintentional and embarrassing eternal damnation. Speaking of non-pork eating cultures, living bacon-free may actually be worth it if this shared dietary quirk could lead to peace in the Middle-East.

The stuff on the right looks more appetizing.

The main reason we chose the Lux was because it is not the Far East and I had whined, “I can’t face another fucking stir fry”. Nice try but guess what the only item on the “Pasta Bar” was? Since when is a beef stir fry a type of pasta? I had a sandwich. For dessert M and I grabbed what was purported to be a coconut cookie. As I bit into it, it crumbled into dust. Literally. It was the driest cookie I had ever tasted. And yes, I did crumble it between my fingers as I took a picture to illustrate its powderiness and, yes, the Romanian soldier next to us looked at me like I was crazy.

That’s the way the cookie crumbles.

They look like shortbread”, suggested J. “Nope, can’t be shortbread. I like shortbread,” deadpanned M. Luckily he had thought to get a back up dessert in the form of the Orange Trifle. “The Jello part looks good”, I jealously commented between gulps of water in a desperate attempt to replace the moisture stolen by my cookie. “How’s the top part?” I asked hoping for a response of “awful”. “It’s okay but pretty tasteless” M declared, “If you close your eyes, imagine yourself in a southern California orange grove biting into a freshly picked orange, then you can just get a hint of orange flavour.” Only a DFAC would rely on self-hypnosis to impart flavour to food. We were all stumped as to the nature and purpose of the green shit on top. M remained hopeful that it was intentional.


Our visit to the Lux tonight was a carefully considered decision based upon serious debate that went something like this:
Me: “Where do you want to go for dinner”
J: “Not the Far East…let’s go for a drive”.
Me: “The Niagara has prime rib”.
J: “Let’s risk it.”
Me: “It’ll probably be crowded”.
J: “I’ll take shitty food over crowds”.
Me: “You decide D, you hardly ever come to dinner”.
D: “I don’t care. The Lux?”
Me: “We ate there last night. We’re going to Cambridge”.
M: “It’s Tuesday so the Cambridge must be good”.
Me: “Yeah, that makes sense M…(sotto voce)Jesus Christ”.
Now in the car:
J: “Where the hell are you going”? (As I make an unnecessary left turn at the Boardwalk)
Me:Fuck, I forgot we were going to Cambridge. I guess we’re eating at Lux”.

We’re available for consulting if you need this kind of decisive leadership.

There isn’t really much to say about tonight’s food. D, M and I had the Cottage Pie while J had the Chicken in Mushroom Sauce. D felt the pie tasted a lot like salty gravy while I felt it tasted very ketchupy which just goes to show the power of condiments. A weird thing happened as we went to sit down. D and M were seated on one side of the table. I was going to sit across from them but there was a drone in the way who was seemingly having great difficulty deciding exactly how he should pick his tray up. Getting the fuck out of my way was not, apparently, in his to do list. So I sat down on the same side of the table as D and M. J came along, noted the unorthodox seating arrangement, decided he liked it and sat on the same side as the three of us. We now took up two full table lengths on one side of the table with an empty chair between each of us. “This’ll make for great dinner conversation” grumbled D as he moved to the other side of the table across from me. J reluctantly moved to the other side as well and M moved over a seat. We were now in a more classic set up with two on each side of the table.
Me: “So, did ya hear about that Aussie billionaire who’s building a Titanic replica? On BFBS radio today he made a point of saying the lifeboats would, like, work.”
M: “James Cameron wants to mine asteroids”.
Me: “The British Prime Minister wants to mine asteroids? That’s fucked up.”
J: “I’m not sure how the asteroids will feel about this. They’re rather nebulous”.
Me: “No, nebula are nebulous. Asteroids are, um…Can they somehow tell what the asteroids are made of before they get there?”
J: “Yeah, they had an idea what the moon was made of before we went there”.
Me: “Uhuh, but it turned out not to be cheese J. It wasn’t cheese.”
D: “You think gold is expensive now, wait til we start getting it from asteroids…it’ll be a billion gazillion dollars an ounce.”
M: “Maybe we should have stayed sitting in a line.”

Bottom Line

Silence is golden.

“Noise proves nothing. Often a hen who has merely laid an egg cackles as if she laid an asteroid.” – Mark Twain

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