Dinner at the Café Giargon

Welcome to Café Giargon. My name is Gabriel and I won’t be your server this evening. I’ll be your culinary narrative host instead, a far more complicated and far less compensated position. Now please close your eyes and trust me not to spit in your food. While other eateries rely on the whims and caprices of temperamental chefs, we’ve decided to hitch our rickety shopping cart to the greasy star of mercurial food artists. If this is your first time dining here, you’ll notice there are no napkins or utensils. That’s because we were founded on the nonsensical belief that such tools blunt the pleasure of eating. It’s why our food is served straight from tray to mouth. And yes, we’re well-versed in the Heimlich maneuver. 

We don’t serve specials either, even though our dishes are special. Rather, we prefer the term “self-actualized menu items.” Food that’s been raised with just enough coddling to get off the farm and into your gullet. For appetizers, we offer a range of false equivalent small plates. Some of which are quite large.  

Enjoy our notorious Bad Word Salad, harvested directly from feral commenters and fertile Internet forums, for the finest, filthiest words tossed around in the basest discourse. Mixed with a pinch of gibberish and a drizzle of balderdash, you’ll roll your eyes long before you lick your lips. Anything but refreshing, it’ll finally get you to seek professional help (it’s the reason your family made this reservation in the first place). That's if you make it to the last morsel. A profane experience that’s only growing by the day. Dressing is available on both sides.

Our French Opinion Soup is a hot medley of wild ideas. There’s the notion that Saint Pierre and Miquelon, two tiny islands in the North Atlantic, will one day help usher in another French empire in North America. A lone, renegade scientist alienated from the establishment and living on a houseboat in the Gulf of Labrador, remains committed to reanimating Bonaparte for a comeback that will put Sinatra's to shame. But that's not the only idea bubbling up to the surface. There’s the opinion that francs are missed sorely and euros ruined the national identity  And there’s the thought that Vichy was not so bad. Of course, this soup is not for everyone.  

Our Morel Clarity Risotto is objectively good. The mushrooms are first dehydrated and then stimulated through cognitive behavioral therapy. Once they come to accept their insignificant place in the universe, onto the skillet they go. 

To appease our sizable and toothless dentist fanbase, we no longer offer dessert. 

Again, I’m Gabriel. We don’t accept cash. We don’t accept credit. We only accept what we already believe in.