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Night 19: Red Tomato Café
I'm pepped up by making peace with Cajun cooking and
refreshed enough to start out the next evening with
spirit. Even though I'm on my own again, and the clouds
have returned, I'm glad to pull up to the parking valet
outside Red Tomato. (Just where do all these cars get
parked? It's like all those single socks in the laundry.
They must exist, somewhere.) All this valet parking
is really making me feel posh and spoiled. Obviously,
I am really easy to please, a trait I get from my father
who was just so happy with schmaltz smeared on rye bread.
I do think though, were he still alive, things like
valet parking (plus $4 coffees and wardrobe malfunctions)
would kill him.
It's a darkening evening, and the inside of Red Tomato
seems darker still. Light comes from the maw of the
fired-up brick pizza oven, so that's about all we need.
I'm perched at a teensy, tall airport-lounge table for
two, but I still have Martha Gellhorn with me and she
is excellent company everywhere.
My waiter breezes over, and I can immediately tell
that he is one of those eager, cheerful sorts who, rather
than offering unobtrusive, silent service, is going
to be an Announcer: "Your menu, some water…"
"a new napkin…" "your fork there,"
etc. But I really don't mind because he is a sweet young
fellow, and — imagine — he's Irish!
Everyone in the house is loading carbs, so I decide
it's time I had some Bethesda pizza. Although I do order
some starters — a green salad with an extremely gum-puckering
lemon vinaigrette and a pretty flatlined lentil and
shrimp dish — the pizza is obviously the prima donna.
Mine comes with generous, nicely grilled vegetables
on top, even fresh tomatoes. The crust is deftly made,
light but with a satisfying tooth to it, and just enough
crunch. It's really delicious.
As I'm polishing off the last slice, my waiter friend
appears again to announce the clearing of the plate.
I ask him if he's Irish. "Irish? No!" "Oh,
I thought I detected a slight lilt to your speech."
"Oh, yeah, I try out different accents sometimes,"
he says. "I thought I sounded Spanish or Portuguese."
He's from Bethesda. Back to restaurant list
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