Going out to a restaurant in Toronto

Earlier in the week I went out to a restaurant on Bloor Street called Serra. What I like about this place is its lack of ambition. I don’t mean to suggest that it’s somehow mediocre or inattentive, for that’s not the case, but it’s an establishment that’s not in the business of challenging the sensibilities of its customers by pushing their culinary boundaries. Neither pushy nor pretentious, it’s a space that’s notable for it’s lack of ambience rather than for it’s ambience. You won’t find an inked server here telling you the intricate story of each plate while obscure music theatrically scores your experience. No, you’ll get a dish you instantly understand, prepared the way you’ve always known such things to be prepared, with the character of the establishment clearly subordinate to that of their customer. In short, it’s the sort of place your parents would like.

Like the restaurant itself, the waitress working when I was there was easy to overlook. She wore her generic black and white server’s attire as if camouflage. Bespectacled and with practical black hair that obscured her features, she moved quickly, whether she was approaching a task or finishing one.  She avoided eye contact and wore make-up in the fashion of somebody who wasn’t accustomed to wearing make-up, as if it, too, were part of the disguise she had to wear for work.  Perfunctory and with her head down, she was a delivery system who offered up no clues as to what her life exterior to the restaurant might be like.

The place wasn’t very busy and she was getting off early. She cashed out quickly, without hanging around to have a glass of wine or something to eat the way that restaurant staff often does. In her friendless manner she hurried out the door, stopping when a homeless woman sitting on a milk crate said something to her.  They spoke for a moment or two and then the waitress took out her purse, gave the woman some money and then hugged her right there on the sidewalk. For nearly a minute they must have embraced, and then after having wiped away a tear the waitress left, moving into the rest of her unseen life.