Fig Cafe

In the spirit of resolve, this year I plan on being more decisive. This resolution can be put to the test with a good menu- one I must read and re-read- so that when the waiter approaches, I grow apprehensive, full of anxiety about the upcoming exchange. And for me, I want to know what everyone at the table is getting, whether or not there are apps and whatnot so that my meal can be comprehensively complimentary. At the Fig Cafe, I found my perfect balance, menu-wise, with great reading material, but also a dish that stood out to me so boldly that I could get my order on and go back to my wine.

I mean, come on, Glen Ellen. Be a little more quintessentially Californian without the pretension of pronouncing yourself thusly. Have more of a fabulous prix-fixe deal ($25 for 3 courses? Have I just been in NYC too long that this seems like a steal?), almost to the point where I think I can't not get it. And I've spoken before about the magic of prix-fixes, so I won't get into it again, but it was a good thing someone at the table got it so I could at least bask in the glory of salad, entree, dessert without feeling unfulfilled.

So halfway down the menu, I spot the word "spaetzle," which, if you've been with me to Munich, you know I can't ignore the tiny, oft-cheesified dough capsules. Spaetzle, ok- but then- roasted... wild... mushrooms? Ok, sold. They go with the fish du jour, and I've told myself that fish, when cooked, is never as good as it sounds. So, armed with the prix-fixe backup plan and silently mourning my tables avoidance of a cheese and salumi plate, I greet the waiter with my question: fish of the day? Bay scallops. I love you, California. One day, I'll be back, but until then, I'll just have to thank Fig Cafe for not letting me break my resolution in the first week of the year.