At the beginning of this semester, Engrained opened on the second floor of the Memorial Union on the Tempe campus. A press release describes Engrained as “an environmentally conscious restaurant dedicated to sustainable dining.”
But while it seems like a hippie establishment serving rubbery tofu over arugula leaves, Engrained sounds like a refreshing and interesting concept. It reflects ASU’s commitment to sustainability and addressing issues of climate change, both important and contemporary problems. And because it’s a restaurant, with hosts and servers and everything, it promises a better experience than the lumpy, flavorless food slopped daily at Pitchforks.
But I decided to investigate Engrained for myself, determine how it actually matches up against its downstairs competition. How good is the restaurant’s commitment to sustainability? And, more importantly, do they actually provide better, fresher food?
First, upon entering Engrained, I was introduced to the restaurant’s complex system of ordering food. The hosts didn’t hand me a menu like at other restaurants. Instead, I was told to consult the TV screens looming near the entrance and the cash registers on which the menu is written. I was also told to inspect samples of their dishes behind glass barriers near the kitchen.
These sounded really appealing. First, I assumed they show their menus on TVs because the practice of printing them on paper is wasteful; that's something I respect. And second, I could physically see what I was ordering instead of simply expecting something good, another thing I appreciate.
The Engrained menu items, though, have unnecessarily long names — “Cucumber and Watermelon Salad with Rainbow Valley Farmers’ Cheese and Feta with Fresh Mint Vinaigrette,” for example — which made deciding on food somewhat difficult.
The TVs aren’t entirely readable from the display area, and not all of the menu options have corresponding sample dishes. And because I was ordering three courses, it was a bewildering and repetitive shuffle between looking at the TV screens, seeing if the option’s samples looked good, and returning to the menu again.
I start noticing other presumable newcomers to Engrained and they were doing exactly the same thing: Peering at TVs like disoriented meerkats, walking to the display area and returning to the TVs again. It was an odd experience.
Eventually, I walked to the cash register to place my order. Only I couldn’t remember the exact names of my dishes — they all have complex titles, remember — and the TVs weren’t directed downward toward the cashier. So I was forced to stand a couple yards away, awkwardly craning my neck upward and loudly proclaiming my order. I walk forward, pay my $15 and find my table.
On a positive note, I notice that the restaurant looks modern and sophisticated. The tables are made of bamboo, the chair backs of crosshatched seatbelts from old cars. Signs on their walls proclaim their adherence to sustainable building practices.
The food arrives quickly, and while it wasn’t horrible, it certainly wasn’t spectacular, either. The salad consisted of oiled spinach leaves, the entrée a mediocre macaroni and cheese, the dessert canned fruit dolloped with chocolate mousse. Not ordinary restaurant quality, though.
Engrained sounds like a wonderful place: A restaurant wholly committed to sustainable food and environmental awareness. But I found the restaurant confusing, the food mediocre and overpriced, and the experience ultimately unsatisfying.
David is looking for a chiropractor to realign his neck after looking at entrees on TV screens. Recommend one at david.k.edwards.1@asu.edu.
