Fat Olives and the Technicolor Cauliflower

By Brian Griffin

I had a story written out about this time that a guy threw a tantrum at Fat Olives, but Ginger made me change it. She believes in unicorns and only happy places and benevolent beings. We had a lunch at Fat Olives that took a little bit longer than expected, and this dude started waving his hands around like one of those inflatable guys at a used car dealership. I’ve been a server. It wasn’t easy. It is simple, but it isn’t easy. Anyway, Ginger doesn’t want me to talk about that. So let’s talk about bread and fashion. Bread is really what makes a sandwich. I mean that both literally and figuratively. If you don’t have bread, you have a salad. If you have the wrong bread, you technically have a sandwich, but you could possibly also have an abomination. Generally, you can imagine what kinds of breads should go with what kinds of ingredients. Bologna and Miracle Whip probably doesn’t bring to mind a nice crusty baguette. Unless you’re in college, a meatball sandwich probably isn’t on Wonder Bread. It’s like wearing shorts and sandals with a nicely tailored peacoat. You can get away with it in a pinch, but I wouldn’t make a habit of it. When you see the world, the world sees you. I could go on for days about the sandwiches at Fat Olives. The meatball in particular stands out to me as having an excellent combination of a telera roll with marinara, parmesan, and provolone. The roll has that perfect pairing of a crisp, thin crust and a soft… inside? Is there a word for the inside of bread? The body? The… meat? Anyway, I’m not one for an overly crusty bread. I don’t need my sandwich fighting back. I’m not trying to bleed at lunch. Know your role, roll. Last week, Ginger and I stopped in for a preview of some items on their upcoming menu. We started with gambas in a smoked chile beurre blanc. It arrived just after I Googled what the hell gambas are (it’s just really good shrimp) and we were greeted with a beautiful bowl of shrimp and cherry tomatoes in a pool of beurre blanc sauce and the aroma of paprika and white wine. Paired with the toasted bread for dipping, it was nothing short of exquisite. We finished up with the spiced apple wontons with salted caramel and basil. They were crisp, miniature apple pastries dusted with a little bit of powdered sugar and basil with a dipping sauce that reminded me of those awesome little caramel apple lollipops. Like everything else, the presentation was so beautiful, I wished that I wasn’t wearing gym shorts. Fat Olives is always nothing short of excellent. I absolutely love this place. Oh, and as always, respect your waiters. Tip your bartenders. Their job is simple. But it is not easy.