(I Hope) That Something (Will Be) In The Air (Tonight), Fandango

                When I think of tapas, I think of something cold—isn’t there supposed to be a difference between hot and cold items? To say that I have never been to a tapas restaurant would be a lie; my Dad brought me to one a few years back that lay in some secluded country/ suburban area in the affluent town of Naperville, Illinois. The whole thing was set up in an old plantation: white country walls, a wide porch, and the tables strewn about the large, mansion like house while waiters scurried about through doorways and down stairs to bring everyone these appetizer-like dishes. Whenever I eat with my Dad I straddle this paradoxical line between ultra-aware—of everything from cultural significance to dining setting---and lemming –like passivity. He tends to know more about where and what were are eating and it is easy to zone out, so when I think of tapas I just think of what is supposed to be a significant difference hot and cold dishes, because he told me there was one.

                So it might be good if I mentioned the restaurant, no? Fandango and I have only had fleeting glances of one another, as I have passed by on my way to this or that in downtown Kalamazoo. It is easy to miss, but when you do notice it, it sort of snatches your eye, in a similar fashion to that of The Union—out of place, but in a good way. Night-life seems to be an elusive scene to get a grasp of here in Kalamazoo, so it is refreshing to see a bar full of night-hawks capturing a few drinks in a not-so-well lit place in some random part of the city. To be honest, I had no idea the main attraction here was tapas until it was mentioned in class the other day, I just thought it was classy bar. On one of those many trips downtown I always had the “in a few years feeling,” in regards to Fandango, that I wasn’t ready to go yet and wouldn’t for a couple years. It was refreshing when I found out that wasn’t all they are about.

                 Now, I have to admit I am a sucker for nightlife. My mother was a bartender for the first 10 years of my life, and having both lived in and frequented downtown Chicago, I have to a say am a bit of a neo-noir nerd. Give me an atmosphere that evokes that emotive, cool, slick city feel with the hint of grime and I feel right at home. The way to my heart in a restaurant isn’t through my stomach, but how dim the lighting is, how big the bar is, and whether or not the sweet scent of cocktail-liquors waft their way over to me while I sit across from a conversation worthy of any night hawk roof. I hope to find a little piece of home at Fandango.

 *note: I forgot to post this before I left to review, but these were the emotions and feelings that were evoked upon my initial interest to head on over to Fandango

Always Apologetic

-E. Clark