This word “fresh” can mean so many things. When we were children and we talked back to our mothers using strong-ish language, we were told not to be fresh. Did they maybe mean to say “raw” (like Eddie Murphy raw)? And rappers of the 80’s and 90’s bragged their rhymes were fresh. Certainly they didn’t mean they smelled nice like clean fresh Tide? We’re assuming the owners of this joint were thinking the name would connote foodstuffs straight from the ocean or farm or slaughterhouse. Although maybe “fresh” in their mind meant, “please don’t make a reservation at our restaurant and stay away in droves”–although we were unable to find that exact definition on dictionary.com. We thought we were geniuses for making our reservations on opentable.com (after all this was supposed to be a popular place in the fall on a Saturday night), and were somehow able to sneak into a spot only three days beforehand. So we show up at like 8:30 and the place is completely dead. I mean like a doornail or a very “sleepy” cat napping in the third lane of the Jersey Turnpike. The decor was nice enough and did convey an airy, open modern feel, but it just helped to demonstrate how sad their customer base was. [MF]
105 Reade St.
