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Aix
Denver, CO |
Los Danzantes
Oaxaca, Mexico |
Asia de Cuba
West Hollywood, CA |
The Sanctuary
New York, NY |
Ghenet
New York, NY |
Moustache
New York, NY |
Lemongrass Grill
New York, NY |
Steak Frites
New York, NY |
Caffe Taci
New York, NY |
Sammy’s Noodle Shop & Grill
New York, NY |
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| Los Danzantes |
Macedonio Alcalá No. 403
Oaxaca, Mexico
951.501.11.84 |
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All prices are in Mexican pesos.
Los Danzantes, which translates to ‘The Dancers,’ is a stunningly-designed restaurant in downtown Oaxaca where I’m fairly sure I was given a solo performance of the Dance of the Dumped.
My very brief relationship, or nonrelationship, with Juan was fascinating like a roadside seven-car pile-up that’s immediately cleared away by a silent crew so swiftly that you have to wonder if it happened at all. We met over drinks the previous night at a nearby mescal bar, and had a short conversation in Spanish in which we exchanged warm smiles and cell phone numbers.
Upon arrival I was delighted by both the huge open space and the restaurant’s ingenious design, which juxtaposed elegant materials like red drapes and heavy wooden tables against large cubes of crushed cars, which formed both an intriguing sculpture at the entrance and also made up the attractive modern bar along one wall. Floating marigolds in a large beautiful pool swirled around a squadron of vertical open coffins populated by what appeared to be real human skeletons, presumably a holdover from this week’s Day of The Dead celebration.
I was so intrigued by the environment that it took me a moment to realize that Juan seemed strangely distracted, he was barely making the effort to talk to me as though he’d already decided it was too much effort. I didn’t have much time to consider the situation as he told the waiter we were ready to order; I had barely glanced at my menu. We split a great bottle of a red, sultry Mexican wine, though I don’t know what it was and Juan either couldn’t remember what he’d ordered or didn’t care to say.
I wondered what was happening, was I being dumped? I’d only had the brief conversation with him the night before in the bar, and couldn’t fathom what could have happened since I walked into this space tonight. I mentally replayed my entrance but couldn’t think of anything I might have said or done. Was it something I was wearing, or did he just change his mind about how he felt? Could he have another date?
The waiter interrupted these silent musings with my tomato and goat cheese salad with a sweet basil dressing ($65), whose incredible flavor had to be attributed at least in part to its composition of entirely fresh ingredients. This was the first I realized that Juan didn’t order a starter. This led me to believe that he not only didn’t want to talk, he was trying to end this as quickly as possible. I suddenly and uncomfortable recognized that he’d taken me to a restaurant with fairly rapid and attentive service, which is always a great choice for dumping someone because there’s no chance of lingering.
In fact I was starting to think he’d paid the waiter to go into overdrive, I’d barely resumed our limited conversation when the main course showed up. I’d ordered chicken breast stuffed with mushrooms served in a black molé sauce ($98), but was instead served breaded chicken breast with porcini mushroom and sesame seed stuffed with goat cheese ($90). The waiter  offered to replace it with the correct dish, but from the look I was getting from Juan I decided to let it go and wrap this up as quickly as possible. I really enjoyed the subtly spicy flavor of the chicken despite the threat of my being over-goat cheesed in one sitting.
Juan was chowing down on the rolled tacos with grasshoppers, guacamole, red sauce, and cactus ($69), which looked suspiciously like an appetizer served as an entrée. I politely accepted his offer to try the grasshoppers, which were either toasted or lightly fried; they were crisp and didn’t really taste like anything, I suppose they add texture to a meal.
Obviously we didn’t stick around for coffee or dessert. I was more baffled by the experience than insulted, and started explaining about Black Hearts Party to Juan in the hopes that he would write a review of this place, and possibly explain why he chose to dump me here. But he didn’t seem remotely interested in my explanation, and after paying the bill took off as fast as possible. I guess it’s a nice enough environment to get dumped in, and it was a good meal, so I’m left with the impression that Juan’s approach to dumping someone is to do it as swiftly and comfortably as possible. |
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| chumwater |
| November 2, 2004 |
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