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| - =Legitimate, Grown-Up Reasons That Carly's Bistro Deserves My 4 Star Rating=
1. Their pita bread is the best I've ever tasted. Yes. Better than Pita Jungle, Pita Pit, and any frozen pita you could get at Wal-Mart. And it's served hot and fresh even at 12:30 AM.
2. The Greek salad I ordered had just the right amount of feta and dressing spread evenly about the greens and tomatoes, and the bruschetta that came with it was, albeit a little too chewy for my budding toothache, still delicious and still worth asking if I could have another.
3. The staff was incredibly knowledgeable about the liquor they served. At the bartender's suggestion, we ordered a bottle of this Japanese wine. While we took turns sipping it and trying desperately to like it, we learned the history of this obscure wine and it's importance to Carly's. It tasted like crap but I felt cultured in purchasing it, and ultimately that's what I want from every bottle of wine I try.
4. The wait staff was very attentive to us, and while the food took a while to put together, our server still kept coming by our table while we waited to see if we wanted anything in the meantime. This may be because we were the only people in the whole restaurant. Though I thought I saw a guy or two at the bar. Whatever.
=The Bullshit, Trivial Reasons I'm Giving Them Four Stars=
1. Even though I pitched in for the bottle of wine and got myself a beer, they didn't ask for ID. This may have been because they trusted I was over 21 or just didn't care, but any place that doesn't ask me for my ID while I'm in transition (as I said to the museum employee who gave me a look about my ID, "I'm working on it") immediately goes in my "favorite places book.
2. They stock more than two kinds of lambics! *Dance.* I ordered a peche and one of my friends the framboise. The waiter brought them out with special Lindeman's glassware. The waiter even poured my glass for me. I felt like such a lady. I love gender roles. They're so retro.
3. The jazz flutist/saxophonist/keyboardist reminded me of my brief experimental phase as a jazz guitarist. It didn't work out. My very existence is dissonant enough. I wonder if, after I master (or mistress?) my upright if I could perform here, playing improvisational jams to bombed hipsters just trying to get their hummus on at 1 in the morning.
4. After I ordered my salad, the server came back a few minutes later to make sure that my seemingly odd request to hold the olive was heard correctly. And it was. While others may find that bothersome, I find it pleasant, because it shows attention to customer satisfaction and it plays to my irrational hatred of black olives.
5. By the grace of the cosmos, this place just happened to be a few blocks from where I, cold, tired, and buzzed, had a sudden craving for pita and lambic beer. That's right. I'm giving a place 4 stars just for existing. Bite me. But not on the neck. Only Misty S. gets to do that.
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