June 2007


Wow, I have to hand it to Dang’s Thai Kitchen, they give great receipts. Sitting down to write this review, as is typical of the dinners at more ethnic places, I’m not totally certain what it was everybody ordered. I had a bite of almost everything, but that doesn’t mean I necessarily know what it was I was sampling. As it happens though, at this dinner, as I did the last few before it, I grabbed the receipt to help me. And Dang’s, being a brand new place, have a first class computerized receipt that tracks everything under the sun. Not only is commonplace info on there like the day we dined, and the server’s name (Nai,) but every single item is annotated, with name and number, amount of servings, and type of meat added. So all I have to do is pull out the handy take out menu I just happen to have, and match the numbers to the corresponding numbers on my menu. I’m on easy street here. At the bottom was even a handy tip guide telling the percentages for 15%, 18%, and 20% tip (Dang’s did not add on the mandatory tip, although the menu states a 17% tip is required for groups of 6 or more and we were 7).

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A couple of bits of positive news regarding RR members who you probably all know (or they might like to think.) Our frequent co-diner Christina is soon to be released from the temporary bondage of classy retail sales, having just secured an extremely wanted and quite prestigious position in events coordination at our mutual alma mater, the always dripping in money, University of Portland. I’m purple with envy. But can she play soccer?

And a note concerning my most long timest of members, Michael, our culinary appreciating poet is off for a summer of travels, from the North, to the South, to the even farther South. Happy trails to you, until we eat again. (boy, that was special. I should be a poet too.)

Fenouil logoNow, on to my rain drenched commentary…

PLEASE, SOMEONE CALL OFF THE WINE DOMINATRIX!!!, and memories of monkey fleas….

Sometime, eons ago (or maybe it was a bit closer to a year + ago,) when I was reading a story about the soon to be open lavish French restaurant in the Pearl, someone had offered in the story a pronunciation guide to how to say the name, Fenouil (surely right up there with Laginappe in the mispronounced Hall of Fame – those crazy French sorts.) Something stuck in my feeble little brain, like Fenooey, but each time I said it that way, someone said what? and laughed like I was some sort of bumpkin queen (I may be some sort of bumpkin queen, but not THAT sort.) As our evening at this establishment grew closer, I took to calling it Fen Oui, since after all, that sounded so very French, and everyone seemed happy when I said it that way. Except for the fact that when I called to confirm the reservation, the person at the restaurant actually said Fenooey. (much like kablooey, in this case, wallet kablooey.) So I guess that just goes to prove that there are still one or two bits of useful information hidden somewhere in the depths of my goofy brain cavity.

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