Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Jep's Chef House Now Occupies Preservation Kitchen

For many years a restaurant near my home (and the only one within easy walking distance to me) has been a delightful source of food, drink, and ambiance. The restaurant location was once the home of mid-century mayor of Bothell, Charles Kaysner, so patrons were eating in an historic house built in the first third of the twentieth century.

In the 1980s and '90s, the location housed what was considered one of the best French restaurant in Greater Seattle and whose chef had a fantastically equipped commercial kitchen added to the house. When the chef retired, the historic house with its famous kitchen was sold to a new owner . . . and sold again . . . and eventually was bought by a family who'd successfully run other restaurants. They named their newest endeavor Preservation Kitchen because the kitchen was so amazing, it deserved to be preserved.

Recently they have retired and leased the establishment to a new owner who is calling the restaurant Jep's Chef House. However, all the locals are so accustomed to calling the location Preservation Kitchen, few can remember the new restaurant's name. Inevitably, a person wanting to call about hours or make a reservation resorts to the the Internet to search for Preservation Kitchen,  only to come up with this message: CLOSED.

Needless to say, this isn't doing much for the new restaurant at the old location, Jep's Chef House.

I'm writing this commentary for one reason only: to help Jep's Chef House get established--to help people poking around on the Internet to find the name of the new restaurant at the old location.

The Kaysner House is far too wonderful for the newest entrepreneur at the venue to fail. The food at Jep's Chef House is delicious (don't miss the Lemon Souffle on the dessert menu) and the ambiance is delightful.  Imagine, restaurant where you can actually have a conversation without shouting! Eating there, whether in the fireplace front-room, or the cozy informal dining room doesn't cost a fortune, either. Let's give Jep's Chef House a chance to survive.  No one wants the restaurant at that location of fade out of existence.

Tuesday, January 22, 2019

An Old Woman Learns Her Lesson

If you're my age (78) or, at least, in the same age bracket (65+), you've no doubt heard your peers rant about the pitiful behavior of youths who are overly absorbed in their cell phones. "They never look up . . . never interact . . . never hear anything," etc.  It can get tiresome.

Recently I attended an early-evening meeting and was driving by a local favorite hamburger joint when I realized two things: I was hungry and had nothing at home I wanted to eat. Aha, I thought . . . I'll get a Ranch-burger for dinner--Yum! It was well after 7 p.m. and the joint was pretty much packed with high-school kids. Instantly realizing I was the oldest one in the place, I jestingly asked the sixteen-year-old order-taker if it was OK to eat in, or if I'd put a damper on the "party." She smiled good naturedly and assured me it was OK to stay. I ordered a burger and (ah, heck, why not) a shake. She took my money, gave me a number, and said it would be a ten minute wait.

I chose one of two empty booths near the door. Everything else was occupied--some by groups of like-gendered friends, others by boys and girls together. I felt self-conscious because I was at least fifty years older than anyone on the premises, including management. Wanting to occupy myself while I waited (I didn't want to be perceived as staring at the kids as they laughed and chatted with each other), I decided to check my cell phone for messages. After all, I'd been in a meeting with my phone silenced, and there was bound to be some stuff to read. Sure enough . . . and my favorite word game app beckoned, as well.

Somewhere in the ruckus of chatter I was dimly aware of an echoing vocal phrase. After four or five repetitions, I looked up. A young man with a tray was pacing the restaurant calling out a number. Yes, it was my number! I raised my hand and he came hurrying to  my table. As I pocketed my phone I quipped, "Well . . . I guess I'll never be able to complain about how young people are too absorbed in their phones." The look he gave me was hilarious. He must have been thinking the exact same thing. He mumbled, 'Yeah, guess not,' and left my table grinning from ear to ear.

Reader, please hold me to it: I promise never to complain about young people lost in their cell phones!