"Go ahead, you can borrow my light," I say, assuming that she's a pleasant enough person.
"I don't know what this is. They've got German, Italian. This is terrible food. Terrible food," she grumbles.
The pendant lights over the bar where she came from are not bad. There's a flattering glow. She looked better over there.
She asks me what "sammies" are. "That sounds like Rachael Ray," she sniffs.
She says a couple of things that could make Tom Colicchio cry into his diary. I hide in my glass of apple-ly St. Louis Gueuze, which is tart enough to wipe her away.
She goes back to the bar, next to someone who may be her hus-bitch, dead soldier martini glasses in front of them.
There are varying comfort zones. And then there are people who haven't even tried something yet and still piss all over it because they couldn't find the Applebees.
Resurrection's menu has already changed since my early visit. If the roasted radicchio is still on there, the first thing you should do is fork off a sizable hunk of that charred business, sink it into your trap, and then immediately reach for the gorgonzola-smeared biscotti that it comes with. Hear me, radicchio before biscotti, and do not stray this course.
The owner did swing by my table for feedback on the veggie items that I tried and was very open to suggestion. He made a point of checking in with other diners as well. There's a lot to feast through here, a variety of greens and less common ingredients for the meatless, with a more polished approach.
I, too, experience discomfort with the term "sammies". But my night was swell. Then I saw this picture in the bathroom with light reflecting off of it. Ending the meal with pie and coffee is always a good sign.
Resurrection Ale House
2425 Grays Ferry Avenue