Some friends have been asking me why I haven’t been blogging as frequently as I used to. I couldn’t figure out a good reason, so I’d always answer, “I dunno.” It took three CDs and a pleasant meal for me to figure it out.

    My other birthday presents arrived at long last, and among them were three albums: ‘Eveningland’ by Hem, The Antonio Carlos Jobim Songbook (fabulous bossa nova sung by a variety of artists), and a CD full of Frank Sintra singing with Jobim himself. Each of these albums are delightfully mellow, hip, and in the case of the latter two, very loungey. Calming yet cool; energetic yet calming. It’s the soundtrack for how I’ve been feeling lately, and because I’ve been so mellow, I haven’t felt as inspired to blog. I’ve thought of thousands of things worth saying, I’ve had a lot of interesting experiences, but I think I blog best when I’m hyper and really excited.

    This calming influence has been good for me, though. I’m not as stressed, my stomach’s doing better, I’m not as jumpy as I used to be post-stalker, and I’m finally sleeping a little better at night (my body clock is still convinced I’m in Japan so I’m sleeping at odd hours, but at least when I sleep, I sleep well.)

    All of this reasoning hit me while I was at dinner this evening at The Tower Club, a swanky private club in Tysons Corner. Oooh, gorgeousness – on the seventeenth floor you look out over Northern Virginia and the Potomac, the waiters wear tuxedos, and everything is cool, polite, and refined. So refined, in fact, they don’t even acquiesce to the vulgarity of digging through your wallet after a relaxing meal. Rather, you sign a card at the beginning of your meal and give them your membership number. They mail you the bill later. Money is out of sight and out of mind, leaving you free to enjoy the food and the ambience.

    This extravagance made me realize just how much I hate “modern” restaurants. It’s no longer about excellent food prepared by a real chef in an atmosphere of indulgence and relaxation. Restaurant designers are turning up the volume of the music, architects plan to amplify the acoustics so the bustle of meal chatter envelopes you, and chefs have been replaced by an assembly line where workers prepare your meal to match a picture using microwaves and heat lamps. I feel rushed by the wait staff, as if they’re urging me to stuff my face as quickly as possible then vacate, so the next person can occupy my seat. In effect, the assembly line doesn’t stop in the kitchen – the patrons are just as much a part of this conveyer belt as the previously prepared and frozen food.

    Restaurant designers call this new style of dining a “party environment.” I call it a shame, because for me it defeats the purpose of going out in the first place. I go out to relax, to avoid the bother of preparing and cleaning up my meal. It’s gotten to the point where I’m tired of giving restaurants my money for these rushed imitations of a proper dining experience. I think this is part of the reason Sweetwater Tavern has fallen from grace – their chefs have been replaced by assembly lines and I’ve recently discovered that some of their food is now cooked ahead of time and then frozen.

    The Tower Club, on the other hand, didn’t seem any more expensive than Sweetwater Tavern. The difference was the atmosphere and the attitude toward the entire experience. The food was heavenly – smoked salmon with asparagus, gulf shrimp in tempura sauce, raspberry sorbet between courses, Black Angus filet mignon I literally cut with a fork. Everything, right down to the smallest detail, was designed for the comfort of the customer. There was live entertainment, but it melted perfectly into the background as it should; even though the dining room was full of patrons, I never felt like I had to raise my voice so my friends could hear me. I ate more than I ever usually eat in one meal, and yet I never felt ill, I never felt like I over-ate, and even now hours later, my stomach doesn’t hurt at all. When typically every meal leaves me in pain, this is a miracle.

    I wish at least a few restaurants would return to this style of comfort. Eating should be a relaxing affair, if for no other reason than for the sake of our digestion. Eating during physical stress is detrimental to our gastrointestinal system, causing it to cramp as we feed our bodies, which diminishes our comfort and our body’s ability to properly absorb nutrients. So why are we paying to enter a stressful environment and eat food that’s no better than a TV dinner we’d buy in the frozen food section at Safeway? Perhaps this is part of the reason why some Europeans are healthier than your average American – when I lived in Italy, I never found a trattoria where the patrons felt stressed or hurried by the atmosphere. One of the best meals I’ve ever eaten was in a traditional Italian restaurant in the Dolomite Alps – it took three hours from beginning to end. Eating is a celebration, but it’s a relaxed, quiet, and peaceful event worth savoring. My meal this evening could have taken anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours, yet because of the ambience, I never would have felt stressed. Fast doesn’t have to mean hurried.

    Life develops enough stress on its own. I’ve decided to adopt a bossa nova approach to life – if something is needlessly stressful, why should I support it? Mellow, relax, take your time whenever you can. I can guarantee that your body will thank you. Next time I’ll explain the biological reasons behind this theory, but until then, check out your favorite restaurant and see if it’s really worth it. A good restaurant should mean more than just good food.