An important economic summit just took place at a resort near Ottawa this past week. At the top of the agenda, were discussions relating to the North American Free-Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and border security. The circus event had the usual suspects of freaks and geeks. Journalist across the globe swooped into this sleeping Capital for some piss and vinegar. The inter-webs is currently bubbling with chatter pertaining to this video and accusations of the use of agents provocateurs during the confrontation between protesters and riot cops. But nowhere in the traditional media has anyone mentioned another atrocity witnessed during the summit. The blogalaxy has been equally silent.

Please direct your gaze at the 3 yahoos pictured below.

We are accessible and transparent and you will know this by our open collars.

Notice anything disturbing?

Two freakin’ words. Casual. Friday. The usually respectable universe of global politics infiltrated by wrinkled cotton pants and open collared shirts. This makes me ill.

Since the mid ’80s, this war of attire has been raging in the business world. Now it has to trickled down into every institution known to man. Is nothing sacred?! Initially funded by golf shirts and Dockers® khakis special interest groups, this ‘casual’ assault had turned the corporate world on its head. Employees foregoing the time honoured traditional garb for their weekend best, if you can call it that. In outfits usually reserved for buying bbq supplies or eating 3 lbs. of honey mustard chicken wings, corporate board rooms started resembling the rom-com aisle at your local video store.

The rationale was simple and relatively innocent, workers are to adhere to a strict dress code the first four work days. Friday is a time for employees to let their hair down. This is the part where in lieu of a raise or a bonus, you get a relaxed work environment. At first glance, how can this be a bad thing? Wrinkled cotton chinos equals fun. And who doesn’t like fun?

You can tell this was a brainchild after some human resources weekend seminar. At first, this movement meant leaving your tie at home for the men, and for you ladies, maybe a pair of sneakers to go along with that smart skirt suit. Then came the ’90s, and the rules of Casual Friday became much more lenient. Now, you wouldn’t even blink if Brian from Finance came into a meeting sporting shorts and a ‘My other ride is your mom’ t-shirt. Classy. Hey, there’s Lois with her barely there tank-top and flip-flops. It must be Friday!

Like the ideals of socialism, a once promising concept has gone horribly wrong. Casual Friday has slowly crept into the rest of the week. Somewhere along the line, buttons, ironing boards and a general feeling of self-worth became the enemy. Currently (at least at my work), the attire is beyond casual. It is more like Hobo Friday (though the rest of the week ain’t too pretty either), pants of differing varieties of elastic waistbands and t-shirts are the norm. Don’t even get me started with the ever popular Canadiana Line — animal graphics set to a lovely black poly-cotton backdrop. I understand what ’suits’ communicate to the regular bystander. Strict. Unwavering. Serious. But I ask you — Is this really a bad thing? Of course casual attire makes sense in certain sectors or job sites. If your job involves heavy lifting or prolonged exposure to the elements, you’re in. If you work in an office with other adults, sorry you are going to have to spend more than 10 minutes dressing. Come on, you deserve to give yourself that extra 15 minutes of prep time. It’s for your own good, that raise or corner office you covet might be on the line.

My main point of annoyance isn’t directly towards poorly dressed office drones. While it may be an eye sore, it doesn’t keep me awake at night. I do have major issues with politicians using Casual Friday as a PR ploy. They may think it’s a great idea from their team of stylists and image makers, I am not buying it. I don’t think it’s folksy and it doesn’t make them seem like regular joes. I expect — no, I demand — that leaders of nations dress appropriately. In fact, even minor politico players should get into this whole dressing properly thingy. The image of José, Steve, and George says this to me: I follow rather than lead. I don’t care either way but my PR team thinks this is a good idea.

Special note to current and aspiring heads of states, if you are conducting talks that has global repercussions, I want to see suits, ties and good shoes. They don’t have to be Saville Row 3-piece numbers, heck you can score 5 suits at Moore’s for a sack of nickels.

While I may not petition for a ban on Casual Friday, I won’t hinder the recent backlash either. News flash: Stuffy shirts are back in kids! Some offices have outlawed Causal Friday all together. Why? They want to present a more professional corporate culture. And you’re saying a stained t-shirt with the words, ‘No Fat Chicks’ doesn’t exude professionalism. That’s a shocker. Hopefully, this memo makes its round by this coming Monday, but I am not holding my breath.

A perfect capp’ to the evening

Let’s face the facts, this fair city of ours is known by a few not-too-flattering statements. Ottawa is a nothing but a government town. Strip-mall/parking lot haven. Where trends/fun/style go to die. If cities were colour coded, Ottawa would be beige. Do I really need to go on? Some are well-deserved, while others are slowly losing their grip on the city’s already mildly bruised ego. Well you can go ahead and add culinary mecca to this notable list. No longer will motorists on the 401 lean forward on the gas pedal as they bypass our little town en route to Montréal. People even flocking here for a tasty morsel or two, what a concept!

While we cannot compete with other metropolitan centres such as Montréal, Toronto or Vancouver for their flare in fashion, entertainment, business and all-around haute chic — where was I going with this — right, there is a little gem of a restaurant that has catapulted Ottawa’s rep as an excellent choice to stuff your gullet, and wash that palette.

Beckta, is housed in…well in a house, a lovely multi-story abode which exudes warmth and charm. While the exterior of the resto says Victorian, its interior is decidedly Mediterranean. A muted palette of colours and finishes offers an overall tranquil setting for some good ‘ol fashion eatin’. Taking its name from its owner, Stephen Beckta, who had cut his teeth in the industry both here and abroad gave this fledgling eatery instant recognition.

Since opening its doors in 2003, Beckta immediately became the place to dine in the city. Enjoyed by luminaries, dignitaries and regular Ottawans just like us. While it had been on our radar, we had not made a trip as yet. Sure we heard the chatter on the street, and we saw the Food Network show documenting their opening, but we still had not made our way down there. But all that changed last week. On that fateful evening, we arrived for our 7:30 pm reservations, ready for a night of slow eating.

From the moment we took our seats, time seemed to ebb forward at a slower pace. Tristan, our main server constantly assured us to take our time and that the night was young and we are in no need to rush any decision/action. Instructions that we took to heart, total dining time…3+ hours. It was a lovely evening of wine, food and conversation. I hear this slow-eating practice is still going strong in regions found outside of North America. How novel!

Since this was our maiden voyage, and we didn’t bring our thinking caps, we placed our lives in Beckta’s capable hands. With a glint in your eye, and a flutter in our chest, we went with the 5 course Tasting Menu along with its wine pairing. Meaning, that the chef Michael Moffat will prepare five selections from the current menu, each course accompanied by a wine selected by Stephen Beckta.

Tell me that doesn’t sound like fun.

This is the dining equivalent to speed dating. The portions are smaller, so you are not committed to the traditional entrée sizes. Perfect for new friends exploring each other. If you liked something, great, and if it didn’t tickle your fancy, also great. But very much unlike speed dating, at the tail end of the evening we were left satisfied and yearning for another encounter. While the pricing may intimidate some, it is well worth the investment.

With each passing course, we savoured each bite, and every sip. Allowing the ingredients to react and interact, setting off synapses in our taste buds. There was a party in our mouths and everyone was invited. During the eating segments of our evening, our conversation of geopolitics and self-discovery was reduced into single prolonged sounds of ‘mmm…ooh…goooood…

The ingredients were fresh, the presentation was impeccable and the marriage of certain dishes with its wine was bold. We only had one course that I thought was pedestrian, but I’m being petty. With each passing course, our expectations were getting loftier and loftier. The Seared Digby Scallops would be the part in the party where someone was changing the vinyl. A little hiccup, but not that big of a deal.

One can not write about Beckta without saluting their utmost dedication to service. Everyone we encountered throughout our ‘stay’ was friendly, knowledgeable and professional. And it is this ardent commitment to customer service that is Beckta’s brightest star. Sure, you can have a world class menu and wine cellar, but it is the human element that creates a joyous ambience. The employees seem to be passionate about their work. You can sense the pride in their manner and decorum. That you cannot fake. Stephen Beckta is rightly recognized for his skills as a sommelier and restauranteur, but he is also adept as a people manager. He has seemed to surround himself with a staff that reflects his passion and pride. And that is the real success of this little restaurant with a big heart.

Bravo Beckta. We should see each other again, soon.