With so many green jokes out there, the title does not pay tribute to any one of them.
Instead here comes a tongue twister to best accompany the statement: The Green dinner comes from dining on greens, not beans, at Greenbelt, a place that’s rather clean and certainly far from mean. Lucky are those blessed with knack for writing these tongue twisters, for I am not one of those.
Ah well at least my school was green and I love edamame, so that ought to settle the score. Now back to dinner.
First stop was Cafe Mary Grace that seems revere all that’s green and natural with its menu doused with herbs, pesto, salad and aglio olio, staring at the menu is a recommended activity for every customer. Failing to decide what to order for the first 10 minutes meant that the menu was just packed with likable fares – a rarity for me!
However sticking with the green theme, the order was Fried Kesong Puti with Calamansi Vinaigrette. The salad came in a jiffy, rather small yet the kesong puti squares were begging to be attacked. The vinaigrette was tinged with garlic, relieving us of that purely sour note. Best was the kesong puti square, lightly breaded, but very much the fancy of any cheese lover.
Next was Cafe Breton. Trying to avoid a sugar rush so late in the evening, I had to settle for more greens: Chix with Asparagus.
Why “chicken” is spelled as “chix” will be a spelling blunder I will never comprehend. It is neither cute nor proper for a restaurant that serves dishes with capers. However I am glad that the asparagus was not shortened to something hideous like “aspy” or “raguz”.
If that were the case, I’d be charged with arson – setting fire to a menu. Now where’s that Grand Marnier? Better make a spectacle out of this.
The Chix with Asparagus lives up to its image of impropriety, as it fails to get a proper “oooh” from me. The chicken strips were hard, the cream was bland, the onions were a tad too thin and the asparagus undercooked. The cheese dip turned out to be grated cheese on the top, which reminded me of childhood spaghetti.
All aspects turned to a “cheesy” misadventure, not even the crepe could salvage my distaste.
On the bright side, the menu was gone so you’ll be glad to know that no arson took place that evening.
The next time I see “CHIX” spelled anywhere though, hold on to your lighters.