Eldorado (Elmsford)
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Right in front of the coffee maker, that is where the greeter placed me. Bless the diner gods. The swing door to the kitchen was at my back, the Spanish men opening and closing it turning the volume dial on “El Perro Negro” back and forth with each step through. Sometimes, in keeping up their spirits at half past midnight, you might catch them chime in. Two half cylinder recesses are in the ceiling, both tapped with short brush strokes of coral, matching a trim along the exterior wall. Rainbow lights along the inner edge of these ceiling features (bordered by tiered walnut) are unexpected, but offer constant change. Counters and tables of granite—and capping the freestanding partition separating the bar from the dining booths—simply act as overt qualitative statements; the real individualistic efforts are the smithed fasteners—like pinched flowers—along the arched booth backs and the Matrix digital rain panels of gold, copper, tan, and turquoise glass. Describing it as an alloy unto itself feels right. I wrote that last line and then went online to remind myself what El Dorado meant. While astonished by the appropriateness of my description, I’m confident it is not El Dorado that you’ll find here, but his cousin: El Ambar.
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Drink: Coffee
I asked for coffee and received a single word confirmation: “Milk?” Perfect. While the coffee’s flavor is tight, it isn’t burnt, bad, or weak. GUESS WHAT? I saw the LACAS tea on the shelf and the LACAS coffee pots. I can’t be certain what they brew, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it’s actually LACAS. The coffee has quite the body, which is perceptible under the tongue. What you also pick up are milk chocolate tasting notes. When the man with the coffee offered me more with only a few bites left, I most gratefully accepted...and jotted down a seal of approval.
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Food: Apple Pie
“Warmed up?” Not served that hot after all. The sugar crystals melted into a gel nail type finish. It was one of the mildest apple pies I’l ever had, but it didn’t crunch or grit at all. Soft to the tooth, but like a Nilla wafer on the tongue. I’m glad that despite sitting in a fridge somewhere, the crust wasn’t hard as a rock. Not overwhelming or too sweet. Glad I didn’t request a la mode. It was perfect. If you’re thinking of apple pie, not desperately and not passively, but somewhere in between, this slice is perfect.