D and I go to the Blue Moose Vegetarian restaurant every Wednesday. It has become a kind of ritual. Being mid-week , we love taking the time to process the week, readying ourselves for the last few days before the weekend. And the ritual was made especially enjoyable because of the owner of Sheila and the magnificent server, Lindsay. When Sheila sold the place (after a fire in the kitchen), Lindsay stayed on. She was the light of the little restaurant, welcoming everyone as a friend.
The food went downhill under the new management, which made me sad. It was my little place for comfort food. The rich soups with perfectly cooked beans and succulent vegetables eroded into pots of gruel-colored bean stews, overpowered by incorrect seasoning. When your soup comes out looking gray, you should worry. No amount of salt will help such a travesty. One night I ordered a meal, and it came to the table - stone cold. I almost ate it, but couldn’t stomach the cold beans. When I told Lindsay, she blushed and her brow furrowed. I knew she was embarrassed.
That would never happen if Shiela still owned the place.
Lindsay has witnessed a lot of the goings on in mine and D’s life - from job loss to friend loss, she’s heard about much of it, always with a smile and an encouraging word. When she asked us about our week, I felt like she cared. I met her boyfriend when I went in for a random lunch. She had that “butterflies in the stomach” look about her. It was adorable.
D and I were known for having a few glasses of wine on our Wednesday night dinners. Moosey felt like home to us, so we thought nothing of eating a filling and healthy meal while talking about life over a few (3) glasses of wine. My favorite night was when we were the last ones there, and Lindsay stayed with us and chatted for a while. We learned more about her as a person, not just as a friendly server. She was always generous with her smiles and laughter, and thought nothing of our silliness.
And last night she e-mailed me. The new owner canned her.
That was a mistake.
I e-mailed her back and let her know that D and I wouldn’t go back to Moosey. The only reason we kept going was because she had become a part of our Wednesday ritual, and her smile (and the sometimes decent food) were enough for us. But without that, I won’t risk getting a shitty meal and substandard service. The true soul of Moosey is gone. And now I am lost on on Wednesdays.
I know Lindsay will be okay. She just got her degree in mortuary science, and was already job hunting. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed for her. We should invite her out for a glass of wine. The ritual doesn’t have to die, it will just change a little.















