The Black Lodge

Last night I was called to a meeting at the Black Lodge, a new restaurant at 630 Kingsway, not far from my home.

For the past two months I have driven past the restaurant's non-descript facade, noting the crowds out front, either smoking or waiting for a table. But on this night I went inside, where I found myself in what felt more like a log cabin outpost than a self-conscious montage of film, literary and visual art references.

As for the patrons, half were calm intelligent-looking het couples in their early-30s, the other half gender clusters, also in their early-30s.

Of the five woman seated at the northwest corner, each sported a distinct hairstyle and clothing preference that belied a deeper bond, as if ten years earlier they were members of the same rowing team.

Of the five men gathered at the corner opposite, while all shared the same preppy logger look (short hair, two-inch beard, cardigan, gingham shirt, skinny jeans and brogues), each tried to out-do the other at the individual level, as if in competition for Most Garrulous Restaurant Laugh.

I enjoyed my time at the Black Lodge. The food and booze is good and cheap. I look forward to going back.