"Not for the human palate": the gourmet cafe where dogs eat like kings
It looked like a scene from Lady and the Tramp.
The dogs lay along the leather-lined booths or s sat at the bistro tables. They stood on their hind legs to assess the pastel-hued pastries behind the counter and immersed themselves in impeccably plated dishes.
Dogue – pronounced as vogue – is a new cafe from San Francisco dog-only. And on Sundays, it offers a $75 tasting menu.
Since its debut in March, the prix fixe for puppies has instantly sparked quite a bit of rage, ridicule and of rumination about late-stage capitalism and social decline. Inevitably, it also attracted hordes of millennial dog parents from the Bay Area and beyond.
Much of that passed over the head of the dogs.
On a recent weekend, a group of pooches at the tables out front were happily devouring shortbread cookies, frosted with wild game-infused icing. In the back, a fluffy little guy was too nervous to eat his pastry – eyes widening at the chaos around him. Between bites, the dogs sniffed and licked each other, tangling their leashes around the tables.
Co-owner Rahmi Massarweh, a classically trained chef, started the business after having exhausted himself in refined cuisines. Humans, he said, could simply never appreciate his art the way dogs do. "model.dotcomrendering.pageElements.ImageBlockElement" class="dcr-5h0uf4">
It looked like a scene from Lady and the Tramp.
The dogs lay along the leather-lined booths or s sat at the bistro tables. They stood on their hind legs to assess the pastel-hued pastries behind the counter and immersed themselves in impeccably plated dishes.
Dogue – pronounced as vogue – is a new cafe from San Francisco dog-only. And on Sundays, it offers a $75 tasting menu.
Since its debut in March, the prix fixe for puppies has instantly sparked quite a bit of rage, ridicule and of rumination about late-stage capitalism and social decline. Inevitably, it also attracted hordes of millennial dog parents from the Bay Area and beyond.
Much of that passed over the head of the dogs.
On a recent weekend, a group of pooches at the tables out front were happily devouring shortbread cookies, frosted with wild game-infused icing. In the back, a fluffy little guy was too nervous to eat his pastry – eyes widening at the chaos around him. Between bites, the dogs sniffed and licked each other, tangling their leashes around the tables.
Co-owner Rahmi Massarweh, a classically trained chef, started the business after having exhausted himself in refined cuisines. Humans, he said, could simply never appreciate his art the way dogs do. "model.dotcomrendering.pageElements.ImageBlockElement" class="dcr-5h0uf4">
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