|Seasoned Vegan seemed like the perfect, laid back place to relax and have a fine dinner.|
When I entered lovely, dimly lit establishment, it was moderately busy, modest really. A kind bespectacled male hostess led me to a comfortable seat and gave me a menu.
|The timeless R&B music, the cozy atmosphere, the elegant furnishings, and colorful hung paintings set a mood that wasn't received.|
It took a while for water and a while longer for my order to be filled.
Thankfully, I had purchased Zora Neale Hurston's autobiography to keep me company whilst listening to the staff talk to the table behind me, asking the guests if they were vegans. None of them were. Those customers laughed, discussing addictions to animal flesh and frozen yogurt.
I sighed and wished to have a conversation about veganism with my waitress.
That never happened.
However, I didn't come to order a salad.
|Pretty colors, but very salty.|
|The mango puree and the graham cracker crust was the biggest wow of the night. The dessert and the plate itself were not up to snuff.|
Now the mango puree was delicious. Perfect sweetness and genuine mango perfection. The graham cracker crust recipe I longed to have for my own. The raw cheezecake had good firm consistency, but the taste wasn't an exceptional thing to remember.
And the worse part-- my plate wasn't clean. When I touched the bottom, I felt remnants of great dissatisfaction. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked and inwardly asking "why?????" My heart broke, shattering into a million regrettable pieces. As a vegan restaurant, an ethical eating space, a black owned and operated business, there has to be commendable quality and a valued commitment to every single customer that crosses that threshold.
I had traveled so far. I left feeling hollow and unimpressed. They made me feel like a major inconvenience.
Seasoned Vegan, sadly, wasn't worth almost missing the bus to Philadelphia over.