La Residence

You cannot stay at La Renaissance without being transported back in time.   The feel of the place, the charm of the staff – all of it makes you want to be certain that you are wearing formal attire and to look for Lauren Bacall to come through the door at any moment.

The place is that elegant, and just has a “feel” to it.

Since we’d opted out of lunch – we’re beginning to understand why seniors eat at 3:30 in the afternoon – it’s because they had coffee at 4-friggin’-thirty this morning, something between breakfast and lunch about 11 and dinner at 4:00.

We opted for drinks in the Le Goveneur bar about 5ish, when we’d changed and rested up a bit.  They had the standards, plus the “traditional” cocktails.  EB opted for his norm – Grey Goose martini, dirty w/ olives (they didn’t understand “Blue Cheese Olives) while LJ went for something that might be less traditional but a house specialty --  a Chocolate and Orange Martini to begin with and then a “Godfather” – Scotch Whiskey and Amaretto.  Both were very good, if not necessarily masculine, drinks.

While we were sitting in the bar drinking and eating their peanuts, they convinced us that dinner at La Parfum was the place to  be tonight.  We’d already decided that since the place got good reviews, but they were having their Holiday Food Fest, complete with both the buffet, unique Vietnamese food stations and games.

EB was not impressed by the games.  LJ tried but failed at them all.  But it was still fun.

Oh, and they played traditional music on stringed instruments that was really interesting as well.

Inside was the everyday buffet, with things well labeled if not called exactly as we would have.  For example “Salad of Potatoes with pork and onion” was, in reality, baked potato salad with bacon and chives.  It was close enough to get the meaning across though.  Most of the hot dishes were served in clay pots over a candle with a bamboo lid.  Other stuff was pretty open.

Outside, they were having either (a) a holiday event or (b) a tourist attraction to rival the luaus in Hawaii.  We decided it is likely the former.

Outside (we had dinner on the patio), you went to different stations that, again, were well labeled and which prepared traditional Vietnamese foods.  Recognizing that this white boy was somewhat confused, our waiter (whom was dubbed “Earnie Douglas” in reverence to “My Three Sons” and Earnie’s glasses) walked me down and explained the different stations to me.

EB,  in the meantime, had gone through the buffet line inside.

It’s a funny thing about memory and smells.  Sometimes, they can kick off something you’d forgotten about ever experiencing, but you get a whiff that triggers that memory cell and BOOM – you’re right back there.

In EB’s case, something in the buffet triggered a memory of his days as a direct caregiver.  We need not discuss what, as it’s not relevant.  Let’s just say that it was enough to put him off his feed for a bit.

LJ, on the other hand, was taking in all the explanations about what the food was and letting them show their skill in making samples.

After a bit, we reconvened at our table on the upper patio, where Earnie was going to bring us bowls of soup.

It was really very good, a chicken broth base with lemongrass.  We’d have loved it if he hadn’t explained that he made certain that they put in, “. . . chicken, pork and BLOOD PUDDING.”

It’s a perfectly legitimate food.  Lots of people enjoy it, and we recognize that about 90% of food taste is cultural.  Blood pudding, though, does not exist in either of our cultures.  I put it just beyond Livermush in terms of disgusting.  EB actually likes Livermush, but organ meats aren’t usually on the menu for either.

Blood Pudding is a big “NO” from both.  There’s not enough alcohol on earth to make that work.

The question is, how do you get rid of a cultural delicacy that’s being shared without offending the host.

The answer is that you rely on the service at the restaurant.  Both of you wander away from the table at the same time and they assume you’re done with that dish and whisk it away.  Gone is the offending cuisine, and you can try something else.

LJ did a Vietnamese Pancake in the meantime, which is essentially a little crepe cooked on a ceramic flowerpot base over charcoal with a matching ceramic lid.  After the batter is poured in, it’s topped with a little chicken, pork, onion, bamboo shoots, carrots and finally a quail egg.

They were actually quite good.

EB was still trying to get over the smell of whatever it was that had lodged in his nose and trying to get that out of his mind.

By this point, we’d finished dinner, hit the dessert bar and were ready to take a little walk around the property.

After all, we might run into Humphrey Bogart.  And who can pass up an opportunity like that?