The interior was standard cafe - clean, sleek, fuss-free, with an inordinate number of Ikea photo frames, either blank or filled with random pictures of anything at all. I think they could do a lot more thought with the stuff that goes into the frames. Rather than pretty stock pictures that don't actually mean anything at all, they could choose to make a statement about picture frames and what compels one to frame a memory, a visual.
My Mushroom soup came was just the right balance of stodge, the amount of cream comfortably scraping my ceiling tolerance of dairy. The three slices of paper thin garlic bread that were served with it made sure my resistance of carbs stayed on the right side of half-hearted.
The eyecatching Mushroom Parmigiana, not quite your ordinary sandwich. The hefty amount of cheese heaped on top of the grilled mushrooms sealed the deal, and the bulk of the concoction requires critical decision-making on how to attack and savour it in its entirety.
Meal-owner whined a little about the bottom part of the sandwich not being toasted on both sides, rendering it soggy from the weight of the filling. But other than that, it appeared to have fulfilled his masculine meal quota!
Hope it was a grand one, Jon!