It was an overly sultry afternoon when I walked into the Red Rooster, 3100 N. Walker Ave., last Wednesday, my shirt already sticking to my back. I figured I would at least be momentarily cooled down with a glass of much-needed ice water; tired of waiting to be seated, I found an open spot close to the door and promptly raised my hand to get the waiter’s attention.
He brought a couple of glasses to the table, and a carafe of water…lukewarm tap water, that is. I figured I should complain, but I’m sure that my waiter—or, perhaps, even the manager—would just give me the ready-made Paseo-esque excuse that it’s how they serve water in France or some other pretentious nonsense; it just isn’t worth it, I suppose.