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Quasi-Fancy

Friends,
Whenever I’m in a new town, I seem to gravitate towards mildly fancy restaurants. You know, not so fancy you walk away hungry after an exquisitely decorated five course meal at a price that could have fed a family of seven. No Michelin stars or famous chefs here. Just fancy enough they feel the urge to play the bedroom voice bossa nova version of Brittany Spears’ Baby One More Time. The latest in a long string of similarly neutered pieces sharing the same Brazilian arrangement. You don’t know whether to lament the song’s desecration or lip sync the familiar lyrics. Fancy enough to serve beignets, bomboloni or buñuelos for dessert (donuts would be too pedestrian). Sure they have nice decorations and perhaps a good view, but is the gussied-up food with thematically amped names worth it? I suppose it depends on your tolerance for elevator music and whether you have an afternoon to kill with a good book. I hear Do Aliens Speak Physics is clever, funny and packed with donut references.
The kind of place where you sometimes find a book posing as a lamp​
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Happy Friday!

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