At the Cup and Saucer Cafe, on Hawthorne . . .
Here, the cook's window doesn't look like a window. It looks like a painting, a trompe l'oiel of our dinner as it's grilled, of the labor behind the roasted red peppers and grilled onions and home fries. There are so many paintings here, hung on the walls with little price tags on cream-colored business cards.
I was there on May Day, after listening to labor union speeches downtown. The Cup and Saucer is that kind of place.
As customers drifted in from the sunny sidewalk, blinking at the specials menu, they took a moment to look at the bright pictures that hung everywhere. Museum posture. Step back. Nod. Discern meaning. Decide if it's worth $300. Decide on ginger buckwheat pancakes and a side of bacon.
No one noticed the art inside the little window.
It was May Day, and still no one noticed.