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We usually like to go there when it's cold outside and we don't feel like traveling. When someone says a place is within walking distance, the span between our office and Martine's front door is usually what I have in mind. I don't know about you, but if I'm going to lunch, I don't want a Pioneer Trek slyly inserted into the middle of the journey there. Ask my wife about Pioneer Trek one time if you like hair-raising stories involving the plucking of live chickens. Or maybe dead, I can't remember.
Anyway, because Wingnut was feeling extra gimpy today, the seating on the upper floor (which most of us prefer, well, the important ones anyway) was out of bounds. Our server seated us well away from the windows and I got to sit on a comfy couch, which was good because I'm old, ornery and have been just generally out of sorts today. I ordered a full-size pastrami sandwich and upgraded my side to the French onion soup, which is always excellent except for the piece of bread they stuff down into the bottom of the bowl. It's probably just me, but eating a soggy slice of wheat bread is just not appealing. I must be recovering from the past two weeks, because I essentially finished my meal. The debris in my soup bowl doesn't count.
Martine doesn't have the most expansive of lunch menus but it's filled with well crafted sandwiches, tasty salads (so I've heard) and a pretty fair burger. Even the bacon veggie quiche is very good. According to the eatery's Web site, the Zagat Survey said Martine has the "best, most unique and innovative cooking in town,' plus there's an 'imaginative wine list' to boot." I can't vouch for the wine list, but ... aw hell, I can't vouch for any of it. Martine's good, but not great.
I'm kind of interested to see what the photos of our outing will look like since Wingnut was the assigned photographer and seemed intent on getting some "artsy" shots for the blog. He about took a swing at me when I prematurely tried to take a straw for my beverage (he was lining up a top-down shot of the straws as they fanned out in a small glass). He's a weirdy, I know.
Probably the highlight of the meal was Jon's riveting account of a congenital deformity, of which I will not speak of in this forum. Needless to say, the revealing of the malady got my imagination revving into high gear, trying to think up a bunch of "what if this happened?" scenarios. Unfortunately, the illness turned out to be nothing to write home about, as abnormalities go. Ah, well. There's always next week.
Man-up possibilities: 6 (eating two salads doesn't count, Chuck)
Food quality: 8
Service: 8
Overall: 7
Quotes of the day:
I hate these pants. I'm gonna take them off.
He totally p***ed out. There was a trail of urine leading out.
Me and 35-cent. We're tight.
You're rich in blessings.
I just work at the paper. I don't read it.
Do we need one of those silver umbrellas? We can just use your hair.
You were comparing your salad to my quiche.
I didn't know Jonny was a bleeder.