So begins my gentle reintroduction to life at Oxford. Well, maybe not that gentle. Everyone knows that a night of cocktails at The Grand Café is never as genteel or gentle as it might appear as a concept. The small bar has art deco glamour with its tall mirrored walls, tiled floor, and dark wood bar. I love scenery that stands up to smart outfits and floors that give a satisfying click expectant of patrons in high heels. Cocktails at Grand cafe are a wonderful make-believe game of opulence, manners, and extravagance. Everything is half price until 11 and no one comes here to be sober or refined.
We once spent several different dinner occasions assigning cocktail personalities in accordance with the best options on the Grand Cafe menu, including, obviously, the rotating nightly specials. This game took a surprisingly considerable amount of time so I’ll share the much debated results, and a fun photo as evidence for the choice. I apologize now to my friends. It’s for the good of curious would-be cafe orders! Now readers will know which drink they might connect with.
Yeah, that’s enough with the photos. I think everyone gets the idea. There are also Mojitos, Margaritas, and my personal favorite, the Sours.
The Grand Cafe was the familiar beginning of our night and then we decided to try something new. I can’t spend all of my time returning and reminiscing. Loll’s mom, Melissa, is in town because she is taking us back to her house in Cornwall when term ends on Sunday. She wanted to take us out to dinner so we decided to investigate High Table; it has a pretty exciting name and looks trendy through the windows. Great! The transition, as with all change, was a little rocky. For example, the menu was not the one that had been listed online. Loll spent the day dreaming of truffles and foi gras but the spring menu was not in effect until the next week! If we’d been here before we would have known the menu and not relied on a trickster website. It was a near tragedy considering she is the type of person who dreams of tomorrows lunch while falling asleep and is sent to the doldrums of depression if her track to that expected taste of a brie and bacon baguette is derailed. The night was saved by the presence of pork belly that turned out to be utterly delicious. Then, there was cheese. Rule of thumb: all good nights end with cheese.
A new memory was made. Everyone is looking forward to trying the new menu. I already know what I’m going to have; we’ve looked at it online that many times. OK so maybe spontaneity and flexibility will come in baby steps.