After deliberating our dining prospects one night, I offered to my better half that we try Neighborhood Services, a joint that's been around for well over a decade. For some reason, I'd never been there (or so I thought), and, that night, I was in the mood to wander off our beaten path of familiar chow houses.My better half assured me that we had indeed been there, some years previous. While I was sure she was right, I couldn't remember that visit. My ability to recall the faintest remembrance was akin to staring into a proverbial black hole. This fact made me a tad nervous...since my lapse in memory of a past event normally meant that I wasn't impressed with the outing and had decided to cross the encounter off the list for some reason.Before I could backtrack, she made the reservation and told me, in no uncertain terms, that we were going. But to be truthful, based on the fact that my memory had gone AWOL of that long ago visit, I wasn't expecting much.Our reservation at Neighborhood Services was for 7:30 pm on a mid-week night, and the joint was packed and noisy. Immediately, I mentally subtracted some points. Crowded and noisy isn't my cup of Oolong tea. But the hostess said she had a booth for us, which quickly caused me to cancel the previous subtraction. After being seated, our waiter was quick on the scene and snapped up our drink orders. Taking a look at the menu, it was decidedly American fare, but offered some twists and turns in what one might find in another restaurant that offers so-called American selections. For some reason, today's daily plate of meatloaf caught my attention. I usually recoil from any thought of ordering comfort foods or a traditional home-cooking style of dish. But, it did push me towards my ultimate pick of chicken piccata, preceded by a simple salad of greens.While I'm no fan of eating in noisy and crowded restaurants, the food rose above my small discomfort. For some reason, the simple, but tasty dish of chicken piccata left an indelible mark in my memory.I have no idea why my memory of my first visit to Neighborhood Services went missing. Maybe it was a longer than expected wait. Perhaps it was due to some fellow diners who had a bit too much too drink. But this trip has been firmly placed in the memory banks.
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