I went to Philly to take a test of my clinical capability, and my
patients were actors, paid to scrutinize my skill. I also went to Philly to
test out a restaurant, and my patient was a BYOB establishment named Audrey
Claire. When I started assessing restaurants, what I didn’t realize was that I ate
while wearing my clinical cap. I had taken my white coat off, but I still
assess restaurants much like I assess patients. When interviewing for an
effective H&P (that’s history & physical, for those of you not in
medicine but patient enough to read this far), I eat efficiently so I don’t prevent
the restaurant from moving on to another customer, much like my need to
transfer my attention to another patient in a timely manner. But a non-acute patient
encounter should never feel rushed and neither should a dining experience. Like
food, everyone has a different idea of exactly what comprises a good H&P. There’s
no real right or wrong way if your information is, in fact, what the patient
actually told you and your food is, in fact, what you actually ordered.
My chief complaint on my visit to Audrey Claire was my grief. My
exam was a disaster, and the one palliating factor for my pain was the BYOB
rule that allowed me a soothing glass of red wine minus the 300% markup, minus
the exorbitant uncorking fee. Philly's slew of BYOB restaurants has me ready to relocate.
The rest of my HPI (history of present illness) unraveled with the Mussels, an appetizer that cured my
complaints. The mussels were absolutely perfect. Each and every morsel was
juicy and all the shells were cooked wide open. The marinara sauce was a thin
liquid with just the right amount of enhancing flavor. Its tantalizing tang
clung to each mussel, a feat I had never seen any chef accomplish until that
day. This prodigal platter drowned my grief even faster than the wine.
The Potato Crusted Ahi Tuna
entrée was the more objective part of an H&P, a summary of relevant
physical exam findings and labs. The tuna was observed to be a pretty pink crusted
with the right number of breadcrumbs. The horseradish topper was tasty but
somehow simultaneously unremarkable. The green beans were afebrile, which
translates to steamed without being nuked, and the rice was too cheesy for me
but overall the low end of normal.
Unfortunately, it was the Feta
and Garlic Crusted Baby Rack of Lamb that abated my initially enthusiastic
assessment of Audrey Claire. My lamb chops were undoubtedly baby lamb chops
because they were tiny. There was no skimping on the portion so I was delighted
by the delicate presentation. The problem is, anything with baby in front of it
also has a more delicate flavor and cries easily. I cried when I realized that I
couldn’t taste the baby-gamey flavor of the lamb under the heavy foot of what
tasted like a giant box of Shake n’ Bake. But the asparagus and mashed potatoes
were good and the mint labne was an amazing dipper – a dense, almost-sour cream
that miraculously appeases those who hate sour cream. What Audrey Claire lacks
in breading, they definitely make up for in sauces.
After every assessment, I make a plan to write. When writing, I
try to capture the story of my meal, the tale my patient tells. I describe the
courses, the complaints, the progression of how my night unfolds, the steps
that brought my patient here. Like each patient, no two stories are alike. Some
stories are abrupt and nonsensical and some stories just flow from my
fingertips like a smooth ganache. But no matter what the story, I tell it like
it is.
My
final assessment of Audrey Claire is that she is a saucy, mature woman who
lacks just a pinch of sophistication and innovation. The crust on the tuna
tasted similar to the crust on the lamb and the sides were well-made though
unimaginative. I still wonder if all that breading was an attempt to soak up
the alcohol from the BYOB. I left confused and not just because of the wine,
but one conclusion rings true. Despite the flaws, Audrey Claire’s mussels have
won my allegiance all the way.
