High on a mountaintop overlooking the shoreline of Cruz Bay in St. John of the U.S.V.I., there sits a small restaurant called Chateau Bordeaux. A mid-sized deck protrudes out the back of the restaurant. Nine tables are randomly placed on this patio, each with its own single white candle in the center. It is night, and bright wicker torches line the veranda, consecutively spaced about six feet apart. Looking down at the bay, colorful lights from the inner Caribbean city reflect onto the glistening water of the shore. The tables are set with solid white China and beautifully shined silverware.
Tall crystal wineglasses are placed at each setting, each filled with ice cold pia coladas. In the background, you are able to make out the melodious tune of Unchained Melody being played softly on a piano. Sitting at a table closest to the cliff sits my boyfriend and I, gazing at the radiant view of the sea. Jack is wearing a jet-black tuxedo with a blood red dress shirt underneath the jacket, and I am wearing a long, flowing black, fitted, strappy velvet gown with black satin slippers and a small silver diamond necklace. My hair is gently stirred by the constant trade winds of the Caribbean, adding an almost eerie effect to the mood. As the two of us sit down to eat, we are befuddled with the exquisitely prepared meal set before us.
The Essay on Biko Table Black White
... to whites) allow us- referring to blacks to come to your table, sit in your chairs, eat your food, use ... have that, we must wipe the table clean, and make a black table, live in peace as we did ... The whites want to control the blacks at their table and the blacks what to control themselves at their ... be the ones treated like the blacks, sitting at the white table, not men, women and children who ...
The main course sits near the center of our table, just inches away from the candle. It is a large, wooden bowl filled with salad from The Olive Garden and mixed with their own, homemade dressing. At each of the two place settings that we sit, there is a large plate of angel-hair pasta topped with just the right amount of delicious marinara sauce, and sprinkled with only the best parmesan cheese. Next to the wooden salad bowl in the center of the table on the opposite side of the candle, there is a small wicker basket filled with Olive Garden breadsticks, covered by a thin flowered napkin. This fine meal is just begging to be consumed. Cruz Bay in St.
John just seemed to be the perfect place to set the mood for my dream meal. I remember going to St. John on a vacation with my mother and father and actually did go to a mountaintop restaurant called Chateau Bordeaux. It was an absolutely beautiful and wonderful experience. I vowed to myself on the day I went there that I would someday return to that fabulous place and live out my fantasy dining experience with someone I truly care about..
