Gavin surprised me with a lunch date this week. He took me to a cute little restaurant called Hideaway. It had been recommended to him by a co-worker as a spot where sandwiches meet appetites. It is tucked into a narrow alleyway off Phan Ngoc Thach and is cute, verdant, and very welcoming. We chose to sit inside on a huge comfy bench in a bright, cozy room.
We ordered goat cheese bruschetta for an appetizer. The goat cheese didn't bring enough of the barnyard and the portions were scant, but it was pleasant having ripe, crisp tomatoes in Saigon.
I opted for the Mediterranean chicken salad, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was full of grilled eggplant, peppers, and squash along with fresh greens, kalamata olives, paprika chicken strips and crunchy slices of crostini.
Gavin chose a grilled pesto chicken sandwich, which tasted like it was purchased from an airport cafe. Not "I'm a dick and I'm going to complain to the waitstaff" bad, but insipid, stiff, and uninspired. The bread was far too sweet, there was only a thin, translucent slice of eggplant and the hint of pesto conservatively applied to the bread left Gavin with a vermouth-dry mouth and a strange craving for salt.
I would go back. I would try new things and maybe shy away from the sandwiches, but the ambiance alone makes me ever-so-slightly anxious to return.
The best part of the whole meal was this strange creature out front. He was jocularly panting and blocking our bike when we tried to leave. That's a memorable face!
We ordered goat cheese bruschetta for an appetizer. The goat cheese didn't bring enough of the barnyard and the portions were scant, but it was pleasant having ripe, crisp tomatoes in Saigon.
I opted for the Mediterranean chicken salad, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was full of grilled eggplant, peppers, and squash along with fresh greens, kalamata olives, paprika chicken strips and crunchy slices of crostini.
Gavin chose a grilled pesto chicken sandwich, which tasted like it was purchased from an airport cafe. Not "I'm a dick and I'm going to complain to the waitstaff" bad, but insipid, stiff, and uninspired. The bread was far too sweet, there was only a thin, translucent slice of eggplant and the hint of pesto conservatively applied to the bread left Gavin with a vermouth-dry mouth and a strange craving for salt.
I would go back. I would try new things and maybe shy away from the sandwiches, but the ambiance alone makes me ever-so-slightly anxious to return.
The best part of the whole meal was this strange creature out front. He was jocularly panting and blocking our bike when we tried to leave. That's a memorable face!
1 comment:
I wonder what Lou and Mel will think of this place?
Come on you two, let us know!
Post a Comment