Theoretical perfection, however, is meaningless. What it comes down to is the actual experience, and the actual experience of brunch at Tabaq on a recent scorching Sunday suck-diddly-ucked. Why? Ohhhh, I will tell you why.
Let's just set the scene. First, picture arriving to your destination and then climbing the stairs for fifteen minutes* to reach the top floor. You curse the stairs for amplifying the effects of your hangover, but persevere, thinking about the delightful moment that you'll reach your mecca- brunch in an air conditioned room- and toast, mimosa in hand, to your friend's 30th birthday.
Instead, you finally reach the top floor, where you are hit by the following realization -- you'll be dining in what is essentially a poorly ventilated glass box. Despite your outfit of shorts and a tank top, you have already begun to wilt from the stale heat of the room.
At brunch, you hardly notice the conversation around you, or the nice views, or the taste of your eggs benedict florentine, because all you can think about is how the sun is beating against your back and DEAR GOD, why is it so hot in here? You think about all of the places you would rather have brunch. Like, in the waiting room of a dentist's office. Outside the elephant enclosure at the zoo. ON THE METRO.
|Can I at least get a fan up in here?|
Exaggeration aside, the food was fine, though the spinach on my eggs tasted suspiciously like it had been defrosted, as it had that watery and mushy quality that doesn't usually befall fresh vegetables. It reminded me of these terrible granola bars my dad used to make -- in his attempts to devise a healthy version of the treats, my family suffered through numerous failed creations that we coined "wet and heavy bars" for their unfortunate texture. Generally, wet and heavy are not qualities you strive for in any food, but certainly not in spinach.
A bright side to this COMPLETELY INEXCUSABLE SCENARIO of insufficient temperature control- sorry, I couldn't control my rage for a second- is that the service is quick. How could it not be, with everyone so sweaty and miserable and anxious to be anywhere else but having brunch at Tabaq Bistro?
*this may be a slight exaggeration