Lunch With Paul No. 8. Heirloom Eats

I’m never a big fan of standing in line

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Paul suggested eating at a place

Called The Heirloom Restaurant, or Eats,

At Friant Road and Fresno Street,

8398 North Fresno Street, #101.

A farm-to-table, “slow fast food,” eatery,

and paired with good service, they claim.

Located in North Fresno, the new Fresno,

Abandoning the discarded South part of town,

Certainly, any white tablecloth restaurants,

Where all the Mexican restaurants are located.

The place was crowded with people,

In the latter part of the lunch hour.

We had to stand in line outside

To get inside just to see the menu and order.

I’m never a big fan of standing in line

To be seated at any restaurant in Fresno.

Leaving diners standing in line

On a 103-degree Fresno afternoon summer sun

Is never a good idea for a restaurant.

About twenty minutes later, once inside,

It was cooler temperature-wise.

There were long counters with metal stools,

and many high tables with lower stools.

All the seats appeared to be occupied,

Glass walls rolled down, like garage doors.

There was cafeteria-style ordering,

Self-serve in the beverage department.

The restaurant had some sort of system

That prevented them from filling up tables

Beyond the capacity to seat people.

Bob, the business manager said,

“We will not take an order at the cash-register

Unless there is a table available for the guest.”

A nice idea, but we’ll see if it works.

We finally made our way to the front

Of the line and placed our food orders.

Paul went first, ordering Chicken Posole Verdi,

With a mushroom tacquito, and Spicy Lamb,

A prime brisket, tzatziki, hummus,

Feta, cucumber slaw, and a potato bun.

I considered Eggplant Parmesan, but chose

Bucatini-Meatballs, pasta with pecorino,

Parmesan and basil, water to drink.

We found seats midway in the dining area.

During the wait for our food, I longed

For crayons and a coloring book.

We found a place for Paul’s walker,

Then there was the matter of Paul

Making a great deal of noise,

As if in great pain, transferring

From walker to a stool, putting weight

On his knees and hips as he moved.

I asked him if the loud noises he displayed

When trying to move because of pain?

He said “No,… a psychological element,

To purge oneself of selfish and evil thoughts.”

Like in Karate, he concentrated his energy

In the cry, then he moved himself

From the walker to his swollen peg legs.

He said the doctor told him that one leg

Was longer than the other, the right

More noticeably distended than the left.

There were plenty of people inside,

The place was plenty noisy, too loud

To hear each other’s comments,

So, we would be eating without dialogue.

He kept his groaning to a minimum

Once indoors as not to attract attention.

We were old men now. When we were young

and Paul used to hang around the door

To the Wild Blue Yonder nightclub,

His low-hanging pants revealed

The cleavage and crack of his butt

Every time he turned or bent over.

He knew the cool places to be, and eat,

And was always looking for a ride

To where the party was really going on.

He’d fall asleep at the Poet’s Association readings,

and claim he was only concentrating hard.

But his snoring gave him away.

I sat next to him, to keep him awake.

By using counter-ordering, the restaurant

Eliminated wait-staff, only delivery people.

We saved on a tip. Our orders found us waiting.

All we were really looking for was

A pleasant surprise in Fresno dining.

The food was not particularly noteworthy,

Aside from the fancy Italian name given the dish,

The bus-staff was highly efficient;

The result, our feeling like they really

Moved us quickly through the place.

The food was hot, but not a lot of warmth

In the upscale, trendy, modern cafeteria.

We immediately felt like mere transactions.

By Stephen Barile

From: United States