Zombie Walk (or Mob or March or Lurch)

In honor of Halloween, I thought I would post about Zombie Walk.  From Wikipedia, here is a brief summary of a Zombie Walk:

A zombie walk (also known as a zombie mob, zombie march or zombie lurch) is an organized public gathering of two or more people who dress up in zombie costumes. Usually taking place in an urban centre, the participants make their way around the city streets and through shopping malls in a somewhat orderly fashion and often limping their way towards a local cemetery or other public space . . . During the event participants are encouraged to remain in character as zombies and to communicate only in a manner consistent with zombie behavior. This may include grunting, groaning and slurred, moaning calls for ‘brains’. It should be noted that zombie behavior is a hot topic of debate. Purists who draw their definitions from the original Living Dead films will claim that a zombie would never have the ability to call for ‘brains’ and furthermore that a zombie needs only living (or freshly killed) flesh for its sustenance and not the brain in particular.

I’m glad to see that there is a discussion about whether or not a true zombie would specifically ask for brains.  For the record, I have to side with the purists; I don’t believe zombies are terribly picky about what freshly killed organ they eat.

There are a whole slew of Zombie Walks throughout the country.  There was one in Richmond earlier in October.  Unfortunately, I read about it after it occurred, or I may have participated.  Here is the link to the Richmond MySpace page for Zombie Walk.  There are some great photos, so take a gander.  Hope you have a great Halloween with loads of tricks and treats!

By the way, the doctored photo above is of me and Tim.  Our faces have been zombified (that was the name of the effect on the image host I used).

The Celtic Festival: Large Men Throwing Stuff

Is it Celtic sounding like an ’s’ or sounding like a ‘k’?  Who determines these things?  Regardless, Tim and I did head out on Sunday to the Richmond Highland Games and Celtic Festival at the Raceway Complex.  This was my second year attending this event, and I have to admit, I didn’t enjoy it as much this year.  The weather was exquisite, but we just couldn’t find our groove once we were there.  We tried to watch some of the fiddle competition, but only the organizer actually competed – no one else volunteered.  After a little bit of listening to him, we moved on.  We watched some of the hammer tossing, but after you see about 10 guys twirl and throw a hammer, it gets a bit redundant.  We strolled around and looked at all the wares being proffered at various Celtic-themed booths (e.g. T-shirts stating “Real Men Wear Kilts,” cladaugh rings, Guinness mugs, etc.) but nothing struck our fancy.  We listened to some bagpipes (which, to me, are tolerable for about 1 minute before I feel like my head is going to explode), and some nice older gents playing Irish folk music.  Lastly, we sat at the playing fields and watched the caber toss (men throwing large sticks – really large sticks – the caber looks like a telephone pole).  The contestant has to lift the chunk of wood upright from the ground, balance it, then try to run, toss the caber, and have it flip.  I cannot imagine even attempting this, but it is what they do.  Excitingly, this year, we actually saw some guy flip the damn caber (last year no one we saw did).   Unfortunately, like the hammer toss, the caber toss gets dull rather quickly.  After our interest ran out, we went home.

Given the exorbitant entry fee of $19, I’m not certain the Celtic Festival was worth it.  They even charge an extra $5 if you want to bring your dog.  However, if you are sad that you missed the festival, check out this link to the Celtic Festival Do-it-Yourself Kit.  Almost like being there, but really just a paper doll.

Millie’s Diner

To our disappointment, Tim and I were only able to take advantage of Restaurant Week once last week (if you don’t know, every year area restaurants offer three-course meals for a fixed price, donating some of the money to the Central Virginia Food Bank).  It is always an excellent opportunity to sample food at venues that may typically be cost prohibitive.

Wednesday evening Tim and I were headed to a lecture at the Virginia Holocaust Museum.  We had time after work but before the lecture to grab a quick bite to eat, so we headed to Millie’s.  Millie’s is a relatively small space; it always seems crowded and busy, but not in a bad way -  just full of happy eaters.  One of the many things I like about Millie’s is that the chefs cook right behind the bar where everyone can see them work.  I find it fascinating to watch them work and reassuring to know what is actually being put on my plate.

Because we arrived early (right after the restaurant opened) we were seated promptly.  Our waitress was kind and attentive, without being overly obtrusive.  Both Tim and I began our meals with a salad – mixed greens with toasted walnuts, tossed with a light, yet delicious vinaigrette.   I ordered quail for my entree which was served with Israeli couscous, grilled vegetables, and a pomegranate sauce.  My quail was tender, moist, and delicious.  The large round pearls of the couscous were scrumptious with the pomegranate sauce.

Tim ordered filet mignon which came with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables.  He enjoyed his meal as well.  For dessert, there were only two options: a dark chocolate torte and ginger cake served with pumpkin gelato.  Tim ordered the torte and I ordered the cake.  I tried a little of both.  The torte was extremely rich (it was drizzled with hot fudge, and covered with whipped cream and strawberries).  As Tim described it, the torte tasted like a giant slab of dense fudge.  It was delicious, but decadent.  The ginger cake was paired well with the pumpkin gelato and was delightful – perfect for a cool, rainy autumn evening.

We both enjoyed our meals immensely.  We have been to Millie’s several times before.  I do advise being prepared for a wait if you plan on going.  Once we went on Valentine’s Day and had to wait several hours.  Millie’s is also famous for its Sunday brunch, and I can vouch for its tastiness.  I give Millie’s 5 out of 5 stars.  It is one of my favorites.

Table 9

Last Friday, we went out for some drinks with a few of my fellow co-workers.  Toward the end during a discussion of Richmond restaurants, Mike mentioned that Table 9 was pretty good and that his friends said the hotdog there was awesome.  So, after quitting happy hour, Tim and I decided to head to Table 9 and give the place a try.  Tim was craving a hotdog.

Table 9 is located in the Fan on Park Avenue in a tiny space (there were not even nine tables in the place).  We got seated quickly and perused Table 9’s very short menu, which featured sandwiches.  There was a handwritten specials menu passed out as well, which had several entrees (pork loin, fish, pasta) and pizzas (three different types).  As tempting as the entrees sounded, Tim and I opted for a hotdog and a sandwich, respectively.

Our food came quickly and was presented simply.  Tim’s hotdog was covered with chili, onions, tomatoes, and cheese (if I am remembering correctly).  He enjoyed it.  It did not come with any side dish, so was a rather meager meal.  But then again, it only cost $3.95.  I had a larger hoagie-type sandwich.  It had lots of Italian meats (pepperoni, salami, etc.), cheeses, and vegetables.  The sandwich was fresh and tasty.  My sandwich did come with a choice of sides (I believe either chips or a potato cake).  I opted for the potato cake, which was quite yummy.  Mashed potatoes lightly fried so the cake was crispy on the outside.  It reminded me of the potato cakes Tim’s mom made for us last time we were in Asheville, per Tim’s special request.  They are one of his favorite foods; he sampled mine at Table 9 and said he would have to order his own next time we returned to the restaurant.   

I loved the atmosphere of the place.  It was bright, but not excessively garish (a lot of Fan restaurants keep the lighting so dim it is difficult to see).  The walls were painted a nice pale blue and there was some interesting local art work on the walls.  Our waitress was very friendly and casual.  There is little room to wait for a table, so I imagine that if all the tables were occupied, people would just leave.   The desserts at Table 9 looked great (lots of towering slices of homemade cake), but Tim and I decided to pass. 

Table 9 is a simple restaurant with limited options, but good for being a corner restaurant in an urban neighborhood.  I still think Chiocca’s on Belmont has better sandwiches and a wider selection, but it also has bugs darting across the table (yes, that happened to us once).  I give Table 9 3.5 out of 5 stars.

Native Son and the Jena 6

Native Son by Richard Wright describes the life of Bigger Thomas, an African-American living in 1930s America, a country plagued by legal racism and segregation.   Bigger senses the unfairness of his existence, of being black, and this feeling of injustice fills him with an anger that becomes unleashed at intervals throughout the novel.  Bigger is not discriminatory to whom he is angry; he feels this way toward blacks and whites in his life, and toward himself.  Bigger does not seem to grasp throughout most of the novel why exactly he is angry; he just knows that he is powerless to control almost any facet of his life:

He shut their voices out of his mind.  He hated his family because he knew that they were suffering and that he was powerless to help them.  He knew that the moment he allowed himself to feel to its fullness how they lived, the shame and the misery of their lives, he would be swept out of himself with fear and despair.  So he held toward them an attitude of iron reserve; he lived with them, but behind a wall, a curtain.  And toward himself he was even more exacting.  He knew that the moment he allowed what his life meant to enter fully into his consciousness, he would either kill himself or someone else.

Bigger gets the opportunity to work as a chauffeur for a wealthy white family on the other side of town.  The white family, in their way, tries to show Bigger kindness, treating him as a child by making decisions about his future for him (offering to pay for his education), to make him a “respectful” black man, one who is prosperous but knows his place.  This makes Bigger angry, although he is uncertain why: he likes the material comforts of the white household (his own room, regular meals, etc., although it upsets him that his family lives in relative squalor to these people) but he desires the freedom to do whatever he wishes.

On his first night of work, Bigger is charged with driving Mary, the daughter in the wealthy white family, to a program at a nearby university. Instead of going to the program, Mary tells Bigger to take her to a tryst with her Communist boyfriend, Jan.  Both Mary and Jan attempt, in their fashion, to treat Bigger as an equal (they ask him to call them by their first names, they share their drinks with him, they insist that he come into a restaurant and eat with them in public, etc.).  Bigger is uncertain how to handle himself and becomes angry.  But why should Bigger be angry?  After all, Jan and Mary are trying to treat him well.  It is because he doesn’t understand; whites are not supposed to treat him this way; what is the appropriate way for him to act?  Like any human being, Bigger feels that they are humiliating him by expecting him to behave appropriately in a setting he is unaccustomed to.  This is one of the stronger aspects of the book, how Wright reveals how any human being would feel the way Bigger feels if he/she were placed in similar situations.

After their night out, Bigger drops off Jan and takes Mary home.  Mary is quite intoxicated, so Bigger is forced to assist her up the stairs and into her room.  While he is placing her on her bed, Mary’s mother enters the bedroom.  Bigger knows he should not be there; that the mother will suspect that he is trying to violate Mary.  Fortunately, Mary’s mother is blind.  Bigger maintains his silence and deseprately hopes that the mother will leave.  Suddenly, Mary begins waking up and murmuring.  Bigger knows he must keep her quiet or he will be doomed.  Bigger places a pillow over Mary’s head to quiet her.  She struggles.  Bigger ultimately kills her, without the mother noticing.

After the murder, Bigger begins an elaborate plan to extort money from Mary’s family by implicating Mary’s Communist boyfriend, Jan. Eventually, after murdering his own girlfriend who became an unwilling co-conspirator in the ransom plan, and after a massive door-to-door manhunt of the entire city, Bigger is caught and brought to prison.

The murders and the ransom plot were the first acts that Bigger felt responsible for in his life.  They were actions that he chose to perform without considering his place, without considering whether he was black or white or what that meant to anyone else:

During the last two days and nights he had lived so fast and so hard that it was an effort to keep it all real in his mind.  So close had danger and death come that he could not feel that it was he who had undergone it.  And, yet, out of it all, over and above all that had happened, impalpable but real, there remained to him a queer sense of power.  He had done this.  He had brought all this about.  In all of his life these two murders were the most meaningful things that had ever happened to him.  He was living, truly and deeply, no matter what others might think, looking at him with their blind eyes.  Never had he had the chance to live out the consequences of his actions; never had his will been so free as in this night and day of fear and murder and flight.

Jan convinces his Communist friend, a lawyer named Max, to represent Bigger in court.  However, in America, especially in the 1930s, Bigger is doomed before the trial even starts.  Eventually, Bigger is sentenced to death.  Bigger tries to trust Max, to find a common bond of human-ness in someone, but has difficulty achieving this trust, as he has no experience with respect and equality in personal relationships.  Bigger goes to his death alone. 

Bigger’s story and the many manifestations of injustice envisioned and discussed throughout Native Sonare heart-wrenching and prophetic.  The book caused me to re-examine my notions of race, especially as during the time when I was reading the book, the Jena 6 case became prominently reported on.  I admit that I felt some confusion about the Jena 6 circumstances.  After all, a person was physically harmed.  Whether he be white or black should not make a difference; his perpetrators should be punished.  But of course, because of who we are as a society, we have to look at the context of this case as a part of the history of injustice perpetrated upon the black race.  (The context for the Jena 6 was that they dared to gather under a tree where, historically, whites gathered.  In retaliation, several whites hung nooses, reminiscent of lynchings, from the tree).  Here is an extensive quote from a Leonard Pitts’ Op/Ed I read a few weeks ago in response to a reader’s e-mail to him.  The reader stated that blacks were playing the “victim card” in the Jena 6 case when, in fact, whites have been victims of racially-motivated crimes and injustices as well as blacks:

Anyway, you were one of a number of readers who wrote to remind me of Simpson. If the point of your reference to him, Tawana Brawley and the Duke lacrosse case was that the justice system has repeatedly and historically mistreated whites, too, on the basis of race, I’m sorry, but that’s absurd.

Not that those cases were not travesties. They were. And if those travesties leave you outraged, well, I share that feeling.

But, here’s what I want you to do.

Take that sense of outrage, that sense of betrayal, of having been cheated by a system you once thought you could trust, and multiply it.

Multiply it by Valdosta and Waco and Birmingham and Fort Lauderdale and Money and Marion and Omaha and thousands of other cities and towns where black men and women were lynched, burned, bombed, shot, with impunity.

Multiply it by the thousands of cops and courts that refused to arrest or punish even when they held photographs of the perpetrators taken in the act. Multiply it by a million lesser outrages.

Multiply it by L.A. cops planting evidence. Multiply it by the black drug defendant who is 48 times more likely to go to jail than the white one who commits the same crime and has the same record.

Multiply it by Abner Louima and Amadou Diallo. Multiply it by 388 years.

And then come talk to me about O.J. Simpson.

You may call all that “playing victim.” I call it providing context. Jena did not happen in a vacuum. It did not spring from nowhere. So this false equivalence, this pretense that the justice system as experienced by white people and black ones is in any way similar, is ignorant and obnoxious.

I’m going to quote from Native Son again:

If only ten or twenty Negroes had been put into slavery, we could call it injustice, but there were hundreds of thousands of them throughout the country.  If this state of affairs had lasted for two or three years, we could say that it was unjust; but it lasted more than two hundred years.  Injustice which lasts for three long centuries and which exists among millions of people over thousands of square miles of territory, is injustice no longer; it is an accomplished fact of life . . . What is happening here today is not injustice but oppression . . .

But what is to be done?  Every time I think about slavery, about racial injustice (or oppression), I feel guilty.  How can I, as a white person, ever give enough to be redeemed from this guilt?  I don’t think I can.

Back to the book.  It was well-written with very clear and concise language.  Wright is never over-dramatic or flowery.  Bigger is not particularly likable but it is difficult not to sympathize with him (and all of the blacks in the story).  My one criticism is the very long-winded speech by Bigger’s lawyer at the end, where he expounds on race in America.  I don’t think this speech was necessary and ruined the unraveling of the racial themes: Wright basically just flat-out told us everything instead of having us discover these ideas through character development, setting, and plot (which he had done successfully throughout the rest of the book).  Lastly, this book still has much relevance today, as seen above.  I give it 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Feminist Radical or the Establishment Candidate?

I read an interesting Op/Ed by Ellen Goodman recently, discussing the candidacy of Hillary Clinton, and how the media coverage and public perception of her run for president has morphed as the campaign season (or millenia, because that’s what it feels like) progresses:

When Hillary Clinton first entered the race, the story line had a pink border. Those same headlines asked and asked and asked: “Is the Country Ready for a Woman President?” The buzz about the former first lady was about being the first woman.

It’s pretty stunning that in less than a year, the question has morphed from whether a woman is “electable” to whether she’s “stoppable.”

It’s even more remarkable that Hillary is now seen less as the woman candidate than the establishment candidate.

I began noticing the de-gendering – forgive the word – of Hillary Clinton last March. About then, the right wing’s favorite “radical feminist socialist” was becoming the left wing’s “politics as usual.” Now, as the High Risk Season opens, she’s framed less for making history than for perpetuating a dynasty. After a millennium as political outsiders, how is it possible that the serious female contender is cast – and even castigated – as the insider?

I cannot decide if the fact that Hillary acts and is considered as the “establishment” candidate is a good or bad thing, especially for the feminist movement (if such a movement even truly exists anymore).  Perhaps it is a good thing: after all, for a woman to be pigeon-holed as the “establishment” candidate and not as the “woman” candidate means that people are viewing her as more than her gender, as an equal to all of her male counterparts, and that they are judging her even-handedly.  But, also, perhaps it is a bad thing: I was excited about having a viable female candidate who could use the presidential campaign to focus on women’s issues and not relegate them to the background.

I have the same conundrum when I am attempting to decide whether or not to vote for Hillary.  I feel as if of course I should vote for her, as she is the first female candidate, and, regardless of her political views, I’ve got to support the lady.  But am I denigrating her to second tier status by only focusing on her gender and not evaluating her political views as I would weigh the political views of a male candidate?  Would I feel the same camaraderie with, for example, Condoleezza Rice or Elizabeth Dole, were they to run for president?  Would I disregard their conservative views and policies and vote for them just because they were women?  Should gender even be considered as a political attribute? 

I also think of my father, who, when I asked him about who he would vote for for president said he would not consider voting for Hillary.  When I asked why, he stated that he does not think any woman should ever be president.  Yes, I’m a bit ashamed to be related to him, but at least he was honest about his reasoning.  I’m reminded of a quote from Shirley Chisholm, the first African-American female U.S. Representative: “Of my two ‘handicaps’ being female put more obstacles in my path than being black.” 

This could be a landmark election for the citizenry of America, but are we ready? 

Malabar, or a journey to the far, far West End

After the National Folk Festival last weekend, Tim and I headed out to Short Pump to visit one of our favorite Indian restaurants, Malabar.  We were pleased to read earlier in the week that they were still open, as we tried to eat there a few months ago and it was inexplicably closed on an evening that seemed unusual for a restaurant to be closed on.  We corralled my brother John into going, and were thrilled to discover that John had never eaten Indian cuisine before.  We got to share a whole new eating culture with someone!

We arrived at Malabar after about a 35-minute drive – it is really far out in the West End, off of Lauderdale Road.  We had to wait about 15 minutes to be greeted and seated, even though it was not terribly busy, and we don’t know why.  Tim and I had visited the restaurant before and never had problems with etiquette and punctuality, but, I have to admit, I became a bit impatient on waiting for no apparent reason.  Eventually we were seated and the pace of the remainder of the meal was fine.

Malabar is probably the best decorated and most comfortable of the local Indian restaurants.  It has pretty golden yellow walls hung with some native Indian artwork.  There are comfortable booths and some tables.  The whole restaurant has a cozy feeling, whereas other local Indian places always feel slightly cold and formal to me.

Malabar has the typical selection of Indian fare.  Tim ordered palak aloo, which is potatoes served in a spicy, creamy spinach base.  I had my usual, palak paneer, which is cheese cubes served in the same spicy, creamy spinach base.  We recommended that John stick with a chicken dish in a tomato-based sauce, as he is not a particularly adventuresome eater.  One drawback about Malabar is they don’t offer naan as a bread option, only paratha.  I prefer naan as it is lighter and fluffier than paratha (which is so dense as to almost feel like you are digesting bricks).  But it is not bad.

John was a bit ambivalent about his food at first because in his first bite he chewed a whole piece of clove.  He didn’t like that taste sensation.  However, as the meal progressed with no more cloves, he enjoyed it more.  My palak paneer was good, although I requested a spice-level of hot and received mild instead (I checked our bill later, and the waiter had written mild). I’m not sure if it was a miscommunication or if he assumed that I could not handle the hot level (which has happened to me once before (receiving resistance as to whether or not I could stomach spiciness)).  Tim loved his dish; in fact, he likes Malabar the best of all the area Indian restaurants because it does offer palak aloo.

I’m a big fan of Indian food in general.  I’m uncertain as to which Richmond-area establishment offers the best food, but I do believe that Malabar should be considered in the top tier.  I give it 4.5 out of 5 stars.

The Priest

I took off a few days this week and spent them cleaning, running errands, buying some new clothes, and making an apple pie.  I also went hiking near the Blue Ridge Parkway, up to a summit called The Priest.  I had been to The Priest before, actually on my first hike ever, in high school. 

In the past, I’ve hiked either all the way from the bottom of Crabtree Falls up to the summit of The Priest and I’ve hiked from Crabtree Meadows (at the top of the falls) to the summit.  This time, I decided to skip Crabtree Falls all together (as the Falls’ trail is notoriously crowded (I think I read somewhere that it is the most visited trail in the Shenandoah area)), and took the Appalachian Trail up to the summit.  Here are directions from Richmond to The Priest and Three Ridges Wilderness parking area, in case anyone wants to go:

• Take I-64 West to Waynesboro
• Take Exit 99 and get on the Blue Ridge Parkway, traveling south
• Go to Milepost 27 on the Parkway and exit left onto Route 56
• Travel east on Route 56 for 11 miles
• The Priest and Three Ridges Wilderness parking area will be on the right 

It is a 4.8 miles from the parking lot to the summit.  The first half of the trail is moderate in difficulty – plenty of switchbacks that are not too terribly steep.  I glimpsed the mountains through the treeline as I rose in elevation.  I crossed several creek-beds, all dry due to our severe drought.  I came to a nice overlook after several miles.  After this first overlook, the trail became much more difficult.  Lots of scree and very steep.  The rocks and dirt became very loose and harder to negotiate.  I wouldn’t recommend this trail to someone who isn’t looking for a good workout.

Here are some photos from my trip:

              

I was disappointed in the lack of leaf colors.  Most of the leaves were brown and dead or still green.  There were some yellows and oranges, and a few reds, but mostly everything was dead (I am assuming because of the drought).  Overall, it was a good day, although I was exhausted by the end.

Al Gore and the Nobel Prize

Yes, I know that this is old news, but I am trying to respond to the overwhelming number (3) of comments people left when I solicited the World Wide Web for blog ideas.  I’ve written entries per comments left by John and Trish; now it is Stephanie’s turn.  She wrote: “How’s about Al Gore winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Which is great and all but why the frick didn’t he speak up about GW and other environmental issues when he was Vice President and had some real political power. Or maybe that’s a good thing -maybe he can influence more change from “outside” the political arena??”

I think Gore did speak up about environmental issues when he was Vice President and even prior to that.  Remember, he published Earth in the Balance way back in 1992, long before global warming and environmental issues were as mainstream as they are now (back then, we were focused on recycling more than anything else; I don’t think we saw the environment in such a desperate light as we do now) (back then we also believed that changing a few key behaviors and products would make the world OK, whereas now we feel a crisis coming that is almost unstoppable).  I also think that the Vice President really has little input in terms of policy, so asking Gore to set policy for an issue that was considered unimportant while he was VP seems unreasonable.

My issue with giving Al Gore the Nobel Prize is that I don’t clearly see the connection between peace and global warming.  From an article I read last Saturday: “The Nobel panel stated that climate change threatened ‘the security of mankind’ because droughts, floods, and rising seas could prompt mass migrations and increase the risk of wars.”  Yes, that is true, but global climate change has NOT caused these things yet, and might not ever do so.  Don’t get me wrong; I think what Gore is doing is admirable and important, but I don’t think it is necessarily creating peace.

I definitely believe that a person can influence things more outside the political arena (especially if that person has the wealth and fame to do so).  Gore essentially took an unpopular and, what many thought, untrue notion and made people talk, think, and act on it.  That is amazing and kudos to him. 

Do you think Gore will run for president?  Do you think he could win?  Would you vote for him?  I hope he does not run; I don’t think the traditional Democratic juggernaut would embrace him as a candidate, and I feel he is doing more positive work outside the political realm.  I also cannot stand his voice (I know, I know, that is very superficial and I shouldn’t judge his capabilities as a potential leader of the free world based on his voice, but come on, admit it, sometimes it annoys you, too).  I also dislike his wife.  I remember in 10th grade writing a vehement position paper against the Parents Music Resource Center, which Tipper founded, and which was trying to ban music due to lyrical content.  I’m still opposed to that and I don’t want her anywhere near power.

Carlton’s

Tim and I visited a new restaurant last Friday evening.  We had settled on grabbing a quick bite at Baker’s Crust, but, on the way, I remembered Carlton’s.  Since we had not been there before, we thought we would give it a try.  It is in the Fan, on the Robinson Street stretch of trendy bars.  It used to be Konsta’s, a nice Greek restaurant that I had been to years ago to celebrate my mom’s birthday.  I wish it had stayed Konsta’s.

We arrived and were greeted by the annoying sound of an electronic doorbell that (usually) retail stores use when only one person is working, so that person knows when someone has entered.  I hate that noise.  The air was stuffy and the place was relatively empty – there was one other couple seated in the corner.  We were pleased with that because most of the restaurants/bars on Robinson are packed to the gills on Friday evenings, and too loud for our old ears and conversation voices.  The decor was pleasant – nice wood features and windows made of stained glass, which gave a different feel to the place.  There was a very unattractive mural on one wall.  Unfortunately, it was in my line of vision throughout the meal.

The waitress came from upstairs and greeted us.  She was pleasant and efficient throughout the meal, although I would have liked her to be a bit more attentive at times (especially as there was only one other table of people in the restaurant).  The menu was limited and a bit pricey for our budgets, but we we decided to stay.  I was not terribly hungry, so I ordered a salad.  It came with mixed greens, toasted pecans, roasted red peppers, and goat cheese, as well as a side of Carlton’s house vinaigrette. The salad was fine, but nothing spectacular.  I could have easily replicated it at home.  I was most disappointed with the dressing; I feel that house dressings should be the ‘wow’ factor on a restaurant salad.

Tim ordered pork loin, which came with sweet potatoes and a choice of vegetable (Tim opted for collard greens).  His plate was huge.  I think he had three cuts of meat, a whopping scoop of potatoes, and a third of a plate full of greens.  It was too much food and not that great tasting.  He liked the pork but thought the potatoes and greens were mediocre.  I tried a taste of both and felt the same. 

I wouldn’t recommend Carlton’s unless you are searching for a very quiet restaurant and food is unimportant.  I give it 2 out of 5 stars.