Dear "bistronomic" restaurant,
We had a lovely time together last night and I appreciate the energy and humor you brought to the table. You were lively, surprising, and attractive. You portioned yourself out in small servings lest I become overwhelmed by your variety and inventiveness. You were hip, fun, cool and easy on the eyes.
So please believe me when I say that it's not you, it's me. Really.
I like your flash, I do, but I need more sustenance, something simpler, easier to digest. The brioche twinkie with the deconstructed caesar salad, for example, was brilliant and the salted caramel with thick dark chocolate was heavenly. But I can't build a life on brioche twinkies. And now, the morning after, I feel cheap and used and a little sick.
I won't be returning for another serving of your dynamic gastronomy. I'm staying with my braised kale, barley risotto, whole wheat couscous and ripe stone fruits. I'm renewing my commitment to oatmeal, yogurt and berries. There's a life there for me, a wholesome and - yes, I'll dare to say it - delicious life and I don't want to give that up for a night of pleasure followed by a morning of regret.
Goodbye, bistronomic restaurant. I wish you well. I hope you meet others who will give you what I can't.