In the summertime, tables are set on the patio. Mr. Bob prefers to eat inside, so that's where we settle even though I long for the freshness of the outdoors.
The food is good here, no doubt about it. We can order full or half portions, I always ask for my soup in a coffee cup, which lessens the chance of my getting it all down my front. And my green salad in a bowl so I can toss it without it escaping onto the tablecloth.
The waitresses bend over backward to please and I've seen residents with memory loss send back their order when it arrives because they've forgotten what they originally asked for. I think I'd get a little snappy if I were the one serving, but I've never seen that happen.
Once a month there's something called "Coffee Talk" where the chef tells us what to be expecting as the seasons change and holds an extensive question and answer period. And he does pay attention. Liver and onions appears on the menu now, by request. We're still trying to get spaghetti sauce that isn't watery and I have high hopes, now that a young Italian man has been added to the kitchen staff. I understand he's most proficient at baking, but I'm counting on his improving the marinara sauce.
Here you see Simone, a new resident who helped me recently when I hit a snag in my knitting. She lives across the hall and is originally from France.
Bob (not my Bob) is drinking his V-8 juice, something that lots of people order, probably as a way to get another serving of vegetables.
I wish I were more fond of vegetables. I eat them out of a sense of duty, but with the recent reports that we really don't need all those supplemental vitamin tablets we've been taking and that PSA tests haven't proven all that necessary for men to have........I'm hoping against hope that we might hear that the need for vegetables has been overblown. I don't think it'll happen. I'll eat almost anything except brussel sprouts but I'm nowhere near being a vegan.