Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Frites, as literature

We check our yelp page like we check our email (compulsively and many times a day). Unlike our emails, we are usually ridden with anxiety and anticipation as those yelp reviews load (refresh browser...gulp...heart palpitations). So far, we've been blown away by the positive response from yelpers. Many of them have taken the time to write very thorough, thoughtful, and sometimes hilarious, reviews. One review in particular sent us all in a tizzy that we ended up doubled over in laughter behind the counter at Saus.

This review is from Dan(resembles Lenny Kravitz...he and his girlfriend, Heather, frequent Saus and are local yelpers). Is it too much to ask that everyone experience our food like this?

Dear Golden-brown Goddess,

Whilst wondering down the uneven cobblestones of Union st., enveloped by the cacophony that is the night life of Fanuiel Hall and yet feeling so alone, I passed you. In that fleeting moment my whole world changed. Just past Union Oyster, the oldest restaurant in Boston, and nestled between the many bars, I spied you through your window, the fluorescent light bouncing off your golden-brown skin like electrons off of a thin gold foil. You sat there there, seductively teasing me with your delicate form, your subtly yet purposefully curved form beckoning me to come to you as if you knew I couldn't stop staring. "No, I cannot--I will not succumb to such temptation. I have broccoli and carrot slices in my bag which are more than enough for me," I told myself, but we both knew that was not the case as my hand creeped towards the door knob. I craved your exotic (Belgian) taste. The tension was palpable as I entered your palace, and despite the lump in my throat and quivering hands I was compelled to press on. On my approach I was stopped by one of your many chaperons, your artisans; if I wanted to spend time you a tribute would be necessary, but frankly no price is too high to taste your deliciously soft treasures (not that it mattered of course, since you come in a variety of sizes for any budget; $4sm-$7lg). I made my choice, I wanted as much of you as I could handle, but to my surprise I was not yet done; another task awaited me. You minx! You knew all along that you came with friends, but observing my coy nature you decided to let me find that out myself. I was suddenly inundated with choices of condiments--almost all of them (homemade) mayo-based. What did I yearn for? How did I want to take you? With the subtly heat of a Chipotle sauce perhaps? The sweet yet spicy burn of the Green Monster? The complexity and richness of the asian Samurai Sauce? I wanted them all. I was determined to have you every which way.

Once I completed the transaction with your caretakers I was privy to watch you begin your preparation for our late night meeting as you delicately slipped into your hot bath. Embarrassed at my own voyeurism I tried to occupy myself with other tasks, like pouring the home-made ketchup into tiny paper cups, but your gently sizzle and scent in addition to my immense anticipation for the inevitable threw me into such a fit of ecstasy I dumped ketchup all over myself. It was then that you probably realized this was my first time, but you didn't laugh, you rather climbed out of your bath and continued your preparation, cooling yourself briefly and getting tossed with a little salt. Then you came to me--on a platter no doubt. Keep in mind I wanted to ravish you right there on the spot, oh deep-fried muse of mine, but I resisted. I quickly tucked you under my arm and took you away to somewhere more private, where our experience could be free from any prying eyes of onlookers, and frankly because I told my girlfriend I was picking you up.

Yes, she was about to join us, but you and I both knew that this would still be a very personal experience, and it was. On the elevator I held you close, judgment be damned. Once we were alone I quickly took you from your brown paper carriage and without hesitation began our tryst. I had to have you naked immediately--I needed to know exactly what I was getting into. First bite: delicious. Your soft interior perfectly complemented by your just barely crispy exterior. You came to me in so many forms; long, short, fat, thin, subtly under-done, subtly over-done, sometimes even in Siamese-twin pairs. As I gourged myself on you I realized that I had neglected your friends, the many sauces I had painstakingly selected with the guidance of your guardians. I plunged you head first into the off-white Bost-onion (a caramelized union, sour cream mix) and brought you to my lips.

Frankly my dear Saus, I want to swim in a bathtub of your saus...es.

oh--and they have waffles too.

No comments: