It was easy to do there: life seemed better eating near the semi-tacky waterfall in the center of the restaurant, along with the beautiful white tablecloths, the glimmering bar, the copiously-stocked menu, and the decisive service. I went there on a Sunday afternoon (sorry that this present was a week ago) and I found the service to be flawless and the food mostly delicious.
I started ordering Vietnamese with a Saigon beer, which was a delight:
Then, the requisite summer rolls: vermicelli, pork, mint, basil, lettuce and shrimp, wrapped in rice paper with peanut sauce. Delicious, of course.
Afterwards, at the insistence of the waitress, I ordered some cleverly-named noodle dish (for context, other entree options are "sophisticated golden chicken," "hard-working piglet," and "fish going wild"). Presenting the waitress with my three possible choices, she chose the below for me unhesitatingly. Scallops, shrimp and calamari were cleverly surrounded by vegetables among crispy nooodles. Those noodles lucky enough to be doused in seafood and vegetables were tender and the surrounding nest was crispy, creating an appealing divergence in taste.
I didn't try enough food to experience the full pantheon of flavor at Present, of which I am certain there is an abundance. What I had was delicious--with a variety of flavors and textures breaking through--but based on this selection, I wouldn't go back. It was in the category of good-to-try but I didn't order anything that would impel me to go back for more.
Since I write this blog, I'd like to state how I am 0 for 2 on new, recent dining experience. In the closer-to-the-present, yesterday evening in Oklahoma City, my parents and I went to Kyle's 1025, paradoxically called "Oklahoma City's foremost dining experience." For reasons too numerous and depressing to list, this was untrue, but I want to record that yesterday evening, I had an entirely-fried meal. The transition here may be poor, but my accomplishment has to be recorded somewhere.
The restaurant cleverly pulled in the recent past through press clippings, menus, and posters of old Oklahoma City establishments in a respectful homage to the city's culinary history. For example, an old poster touts the then-newly-recently-renovated Skirvin, which has since undergone a major transformation:
We started with an appetizer of fried calamari, surprisingly crisp when coupled with abysmally poor service:
For dinner, I had the chicken fried steak with garlic mashed potoates and green beans. With creamed gravy. My arteries hurt thinking about it.
Because the service hovered around 2% accurate and timely, the whole dinner was free including this dessert, coconut creme pie with small mounds of Belgian chocolate with chantilly.
I'll resume when cooking doesn't seem a better alternative to dining out.