Confession: I'm a bit of a control freak. I've known it for sometime tho I tend to disguise it as being an 'aware parent' - that sounds less obsessive than 'control freak'. Call it what you will, it's part of me and at no time have I been more keenly aware of it than on Philip's and my latest date night. One of his colleagues told him about a place in Kitsilano called Dark Table - you go to this restaurant and eat in the dark - theory being that since you're depriving yourself of the sense of sight that your other senses are heightened. I wasn't excited about it. At all. But I got all sorts of excited in early December when a Groupon for Dark Table came through my email and I bought it thinking, "This is a
perfect Christmas gift for Philip - he'll love it!" As soon as I clicked "Buy" I had immediate buyer's remorse - I dismissed it and got to work making clues for him to open Christmas morning - affirming my brilliant gift shared out of my undying love and affection for my husband - I never would have bought it otherwise. It was a hit Christmas morning and Philip was excited.
Life went on. We'd mention occasionally needing to make a reservation before the Groupon expired but we never nailed anything down. And then, something that makes me crazy happened - the bloody Groupon expired. Not willing to let this 'deal' slip away, I humbly called the restaurant and begged forgiveness and asked if they'd be willing to honor the deal if we agreed to come on a Tuesday night (or whatever night's their slowest). Sami kindly agreed and the reservation was set. There was no turning back. Now - lest you think I'm joking - this Dark Table experience really is a
thing. They're all over the world - London, Chicago, Vancouver, etc. (
www.darktable.ca) and have very admirable goals. I learned that 70% of the visually impaired population is unemployed so this gives them an opportunity to get a job in addition to being able to guide sighted people in a world that's foreign to us. The concept reportedly originated in Switzerland at the home of a blind man who'd blindfold his dinner guests so they would better experience the tastes of the meal. I was fascinated, but leery.
I studied the website - it assured that we'd have the opportunity to allow our eyes to adjust to the darkness before our meal. It also mentioned that we'd have to check our cell phones at the door as they didn't want any light emanating from them during the 'experience'. My blood pressure began to rise. Alas, I love my husband and we were going out - we had a babysitter and I even put on real clothes. The cab dropped us off, we sat on a lovely veranda and were presented the menu. I chose the prawns and citrus risotto, Philip chose the beef tenderloin. Then our server, Dustin, came to retrieve us. We stepped into the foyer, the door closed behind us and it was dark - really dark - the kind of dark where you get poked in the eye because you don't see the finger coming at your face dark. Dustin instructed me to put my hands on his shoulders and Philip followed by placing his hands on my shoulders and we chug-a-chugged our little train to our table. I've not been in a conga line in a very long time, and rest assured, they are intended for at least dimly lit rooms. We were seated and I about broke into a full-on panic attack and immediately engaged in some very stern self talk to keep my head from exploding. I found solace in the tiny glow-in-the-dark hands on Philip's watch that I could occasionally make out as his wrist moved. The last time I was this completely unnerved was when I taught my children how to use the mother of all curse words as we dangled on a chair lift. Dustin then reminded us that our appetizer course was a 'surprise' dish - sweet Lord, was there no end to the stress???
Philip made him promise that he wasn't going to put squid or something equally exotic in front of us - Dustin was a locked safe. He didn't give us even a hint of a hint. The plate arrived and manners flew out the window. I was poking around the plate with my fingers trying to discern what sat before me, praying there was no hidden night-vision camera recording my barbaric approach to the table. We figured out it was a salad - whew. However, do you have any clue how hard it is to eat a salad in complete darkness? We did our best - and decided we were eating a version of caprese - basil/parmesean crouton atop tomatoes and greens with balsamic vinaigrette. Next came our entrees.
At this point it's important to note that I'm not only a control freak, but I'm a daughter of a home economics teacher. Since I can remember, I've been taught the importance of food's presentation because, after all, we 'eat with our eyes' first. It's why I like white dishes - there's no pattern to compete with the food. It's why, when I helped my mom cater, we spent as much time creating the perfect lemon tree centerpiece as we did plating the food for wedding buffets. This, coupled with my preference to eat one item at a time, threw me into a tailspin. I clumsily felt around my plate - trying not to mess up my hands too much - carefully analyzing the circumference of the plate so I knew the space with which I was working. There was not one. single. bite. that didn't include two types of food. Prawn + risotto, prawn + veg, veg + risotto - you get the picture. The food was good - but instead of my taste buds being awakened to the flavors before me, they felt dulled by my constant analysis of geometry - working around the plate in a methodical manner and concentrating on remembering exactly where my water stood so I didn't end up wearing it. My hearing, however, did seem more astute - tho perhaps it was the subject that a table near-ish us was discussing. Their conversation emphasized how frighteningly average my lifestyle is - or it highlighted how, ahem, adventurous (?) their lifestyles are. Regardless, I'm glad I didn't see their faces because if fate had ever made our paths cross again I wouldn't have been able to look them in the eye.
My lovely prawns & citrus risotto
Philip's tenderloin and roasted potatoes - or is this the chocolate mousse? I don't know!?!
Dessert was another 'surprise' dish - turned out to be a very rich chocolate mousse torte. This was, by far, the trickiest course to chase around the plate in the dark. I gave up after 3 or 4 bites - I was exhausted. I'd eaten my entire dinner with my purse still hanging across my body because I didn't know if I'd be able to find it if I put it down. We finished dinner and called for the bill and boarded our shoulder train again to shuffle to the cash register. FINALLY - an 11X17" window of dim light surrounded by black drapes through which we passed our debit card. Dustin came back to guide us on one last shuffle train ride to the door leading outside where we were assaulted by the sunshine and frozen until our eyes adjusted. I could breathe again. We went for a bit of a walk before hailing a cab back home and I chalked our date up to a 'one and done' experience. I have a new appreciation for light and the gift of sight. Likewise, I have a new appreciation for dark and the hope that comes from seeing even the smallest sliver of light. Seems only fitting that my current reading is Barbara Brown Taylor's
Learning to Walk in the Dark - it's clear I've got some learning to do.
