I caught a glimpse into a parallel universe the other night when out for dinner with my wife.
For the past two years I have worked at a successful and celebrated local restaurant, cutting my teeth in the food service industry and learning the ropes of what it means to deliver a successful dinner service. The motivation for this, is my long-term goal to introduce food service to the experiences we are building at Wegmueller Farm. After all, the purpose of a farm is to feed people, right?
Working at a restaurant has elevated the dining out experience for me. And I am not talking specifically about fancy, five-star, deconstructed experiences where the chore of eating becomes a journey into the abstract; give me a bowling alley burger or dive bar fish fry anytime. It does not mater the setting or the fare. The best pizza in the world will come from a place that will never, ever, claim to have the best pizza.
Having said all of that, I took my wife out for her birthday. I surprised her with reservations to a nice restaurant in downtown Madison, Wisconsin - the kind of place you need a reservation for, and yeah - you dress up. This was a special occasion, and a rare occurrence for me to not have to work on a Saturday night.
From start to finish, the dining experience was everything you could possibly want when trying to impress your girl. The salad bar was fresh, well-maintained, and offered an impressive array of local and exotic fruits, vegetables, soups, cold salads, breads, cheeses, and hors d’oeuvres. The dining room was busy, but not crowded. We could enjoy our conversation while not imposing on other diners — and vice versa.
There were signature cocktails, and a nice wine list. The main courses were cooked and presented to perfection by a variety of servers who were knowledgeable about the food, personable, and extremely good at their jobs.
As the wine did its thing, I found myself perfectly at peace and savoring the evening’s meal. Our hostess was a college-age student enrolled at UW-Madison who had just switched majors because she found herself fascinated with Geology, and was working this high-end job in order to earn some cash on the side. I watched her coordinate several tables’ orders with the cooks and then the servers, and she worked the dining room with an elevated level of professional efficiency.
And then it came time to order dessert.
I am a sucker for a good after-dinner drink.
Between the starters, salad, main course, bottle of wine, and tres leche cake, what I really wanted was a nice tawny port to tie everything together. I have always preferred port over sherry and asked, “Do you have any Tawny Port?”
Her eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight, looking noticeably uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any of that to offer.”
Her suddenly cold response threw me for a loop, and I persisted, “I’ve had it here before — I’m looking for a Tawny Port. Are you out?”
The weird tension escalated as she looked me dead in the eyes and responded, “No one has ever asked for that before. Did your kids put you up to this? Who told you to ask for that?”
Clearly, we were suffering a breakdown in communication. I laughed, “I feel like I just uttered a code word or something” as I grabbed the dessert menu and pointed to, in big bold letters, “Port”. It was listed right above “Sherry”.
With that, her face turned bright red and she burst out laughing, “OK, I am so sorry, I have to explain, asking for John Pork is the latest internet trend. People go around saying John Pork is calling, and it’s an internet thing where a guy with the face of a pig is trying to call you. It’s the latest stupid thing to go around, and I thought you were asking me for ‘Tony Pork’ as a variation of that.”
We looked it up. Yes, asking for John Pork is a thing — the latest “thing” — that your kids and grandkids are into. It is nothing more than a guy with a pig’s head and it makes no sense at all, because sometimes making no sense at all is the point. There are websites, reels, merchandise, apps, a song, and an entire subculture around John Pork. Who knew about John Pork? And apparently Tony Pork? Not this 40-something-year-old humbly seeking out his evening tawny port, and I am completely at peace with that, too.
The unexpected levity at our table drew glances from other diners. It is amazing how laughter can unnerve some people, which is exactly why we need more of it. And speaking of nonsense, it was at this point that I turned to our hostess and asked, “Does this mean that I have graduated from the Six-Seven University?”
Overall, five out of five stars. Would highly recommend. Food, ambiance, and price range were what you would expect, but dine here for the above-average human interactions. I have forgotten how much I needed that. I think we all need a little more authentic human interactions in our lives.
— Dan Wegmueller is the owner of Wegmueller Farms and his column appears regularly in the Times. His website is https://www.farmforthought.org.
