Before I begin my review, I would be remiss to mention those skeptical souls who think of Lil'…read moreCharlie's, not as a beacon of culinary excellence or a palace of palatial pleasures, but a den where dwell the foulest demons of ignorance of cooking. Charles Baudelaire, before whom I bow as a servant to a master, once said "On peut juger de la vertu d'un homme à ses goûts en matière de nourriture". Well, he technically said no such thing, but I wish he would have. Baudelaire would have smited upon the tongue those fanatic cretins who maintain and uphold the absurd opinion that Lil' Charlie's (Heaven banish the thought!) is a bad restaurant. I have heard many of my fellows complain of stomachaches and nausea accompanying a trip to this paradise of cookery. Alas! they exaggerate their sufferings, seeking to blame Lil' Charlie's for their own puerile digestive system. For those who criticize the food itself, I have no words. Indeed, I must restrain my tongue; for no fire burns too hot for them, no poison good enough to scorch their iniquitous throats, no--but I must hinder my rash flow of words: justice makes me speak thus.
Now I shall presume to speak of the menu. Presume, because who can hope to accomplish the feat of expounding, in mere human words, the transcendence that is the cooking of Lil' Charlie's? I feel as Dante felt when, looking into the eyes of his lady-love Beatrice (oh! those luminous eyes 'lucent-weeping from the dayspring'!), he laments his inability to capture the beauty of it in words. To use Browning's phrase: "Poor the speech; be how I speak for all things". If Browning stumbles in his speech, what can I hope to say? Nevertheless, I set sail in uncertain waters, trusting that my words may carry me through.
The food itself is the platonic ideal of perfection. The pork sandwich, Homeric in its proportions, leaves no hungry waif unsatisfied. The chicken wings come in divers seasonings. Jamaican Jerk? Parmesan and garlic? Classic Buffalo? Lil' Charlie's has you covered. The salads are a pleasant meal in themselves; one cannot eat them without conjuring up images of sunny pastorals or the Ecologues written by Theocritus, where joy-drunk shepherds recite their bucolic verses to one another. I shall go so far as to compare the summer salad to a painting by Watteau. Such is the magical power wielded by the chefs of Lil' Charlie's.
The one stain upon the pure tapestry woven by the Muses themselves may be said to be the Father Franz Chili. It was rather too oily and contained NO beans! Absurd! Maddening! All in all, it was still a somewhat palatable meal.
I must end my paean to Lil' Charlie's without praising the many other attractive features that lend it lustre. The atmosphere is homey and attractive; the tables are as clean and polished as a verse by Virgil. I blush with shame that I cannot hymn the staff, angels of culinary perfection, as is fit. All I can add is that Heaven shall reward them the highest sphere among its many mansions.
And, to you one young man who laments the time it takes to receive your food (you know your name, oh unfortunate one!), all I can wish is for your tongue to cleave to your jaws and your liver to pour forth upon the earth. Let your voice be silenced ever and anon.
FINIS