Restaurant Review: The Event Horizon Bistro

Restaurant Review: The Event Horizon Bistro

⭐⭐☆☆☆

(Two stars, generously rounded up because I survived.)

I visited the Event Horizon Bistro last night after my navigation implant rerouted me due to a “localized time sneeze.” This happens more often than you would think, especially if you live within three miles of a university physics department or have angered a theoretical mathematician. When you wake up thirty minutes earlier than you went to sleep, you have two responsible options: call a physicist or order dinner. I chose dinner, largely because physicists ask follow-up questions.

The Event Horizon Bistro advertises itself as “Casual Fine Dining at the Edge of Known Reality.” This feels ambitious, but also refreshingly specific. The sign out front flickers between languages, most of which contain more vowels than consonants and at least one punctuation mark I do not recognize. There is also a chalkboard sign by the door that reads:

TODAY’S SPECIAL: SOUP (PROBABLY).

I appreciate honesty in advertising, especially when it comes to soup.

Ambience

The décor can best be described as minimalist post-apocalyptic chic. Concrete walls, low amber lighting, reclaimed metal tables, and a tasteful singularity rotating gently near the hostess stand. The black hole is roughly the size of a grapefruit and emits a low, comforting hum, like a refrigerator that knows your secrets. The hostess assured us it was “fully contained” and “mostly decorative.”

Unfortunately, if you sit too close, the singularity will rearrange your memories.

Within ten minutes, I lost my fourth-grade spelling bee, gained an uncle I do not recognize, and forgot why I do not like olives. I also briefly remembered winning an award for something I have not done yet, which filled me with pride and dread in equal measure. Overall, though, the space felt cozy—if your definition of cozy includes mild existential uncertainty and the smell of toasted bread drifting in from several timelines at once.

The music was live jazz, performed by a three-armed quartet who argued constantly about time signatures. This was partly due to artistic temperament and partly because one of them experienced time moving backward. Every song ended before it began, which made clapping difficult but enthusiastic. Five stars for novelty; minus three for existential dread and the sudden realization that I might have already tipped them tomorrow.

Service

Our server introduced themself as “Alex, or possibly not Alex, depending on when you ask.” Alex was friendly, knowledgeable, and partially transparent from the shoulders down. This did not appear to affect their professionalism.

I asked about the specials. Alex smiled and said,

“The chef recommends the Pan-Seared Chrono-Salmon. It is fresh tomorrow.”

I asked what that meant exactly. Alex tilted their head, consulted a small wrist device that emitted a soft beep, and replied, “It means you should eat it today.”

I inquired about dietary restrictions. Alex nodded gravely.

“We accommodate gluten-free, dairy-free, and causality-free diets.”

When I asked what causality-free meant, Alex blinked out of existence for eight seconds and returned holding a bread basket. I decided not to pursue the question. Good save.

Water arrived promptly, though it fell upward into the glass. Ice cubes screamed briefly as they formed, which Alex assured me was completely normal and “only alarming the first few times.” The water tasted clean, cold, and faintly nostalgic.

Menu

The menu is presented as a single sheet of brushed metal that changes when you blink. This encourages decisiveness and discourages reading comprehension. Highlights included:

Grandmother’s Lasagna (may contain your grandmother)

Schrödinger’s Steak (ask your server if it’s done; they will refuse)

Side Salad (Sentient) — Market Price

There was also a children’s menu, though no children were present, possibly because they had already been present earlier and left.

I ordered the Pan-Seared Chrono-Salmon, a Side Salad (Sentient), and the house cocktail: The Paradox Spritz. My dining companion ordered cautiously and made several notes “just in case.”

Drinks

The Paradox Spritz arrived before I ordered it. This was efficient, if unsettling. It tasted like citrus, regret, and victory. Halfway through the glass, it congratulated me on a promotion I have not yet received. The garnish—a twist of lemon that refused to stay in one dimension—winked at me.

It was, I must admit, an excellent cocktail. I would order it again yesterday.

The Food

The Chrono-Salmon was, as advertised, fresh tomorrow. Unfortunately, tomorrow it is slightly overcooked. The fish oscillated gently between tender and dry, which Alex explained was due to a “temporal hot spot near the garnish.” The garnish itself was dill that attempted to crawl away. I respect its survival instinct.

Flavor-wise, the salmon was delicate, rich, and confusing. At one point, it tasted like the best meal I had ever had; at another, like leftovers I had already judged unfairly. The sauce—something beurre blanc-adjacent—kept rewriting itself. I believe it won.

The Sentient Salad greeted me politely and asked how my day had been. When I replied “fine,” it visibly wilted. I apologized. The dressing, an aioli with ambitions, argued that it was less of a sauce and more of a lifestyle choice. Texture-wise, everything was crisp, including the croutons, which silently judged me for my posture and life decisions.

I attempted a bite of Schrödinger’s Steak from my dining companion’s plate. The moment my fork approached, the steak ceased to exist, then reappeared as tofu. Bold move. Seasoned aggressively. Flavorful, if confusing. My dining companion claimed it was medium-rare, though I never personally witnessed it.

Atmosphere (Continued)

About halfway through the meal, a mild paradox formed near table seven. A man stood up to complain about his soup arriving cold and hot at the same time, then sat back down before he finished standing. Management responded quickly and professionally by releasing a small cat to absorb the anomaly.

The cat glowed faintly, purred, and became two cats. Both demanded cream. This calmed the room considerably.

Other diners reacted with impressive restraint. One couple toasted quietly. Another took notes. A woman near the window sighed and said, “Not again,” which suggests a loyal customer base.

Dessert

We split the Infinite Cheesecake, which the menu described as “conceptual.” The slice never ended. This sounds appealing in theory, but becomes alarming around bite thirty-seven. The flavor cycles through vanilla, blueberry, and “childhood birthday you forgot.” Around bite twenty-four, I experienced a brief but intense desire to call my parents.

The texture was perfect throughout, which only made its endlessness more threatening. I eventually tapped out when my spoon achieved escape velocity and lodged itself in the ceiling. Alex assured us this happens “a lot.”

Cleanliness

The Bistro was impeccably clean. Tables reset themselves. Crumbs vanished. The restrooms were spotless, though one stall led directly to 1998. I did not use it out of respect and because I did not want to explain dial-up internet to anyone.

Value

Prices are listed in credits, memories, or “favors to be named later.” My bill came to 42 credits and one vague sense of longing. I tipped 20%, plus a moment of confidence I will not need until Thursday.

Parking validation voids your warranty.

Final Thoughts

The Event Horizon Bistro is not for everyone. If you prefer your meals to obey the laws of physics, your salads not to question your emotional availability, and your steak to commit to a form, you may want to dine elsewhere—perhaps somewhere where soup is definitely soup.

However, if you enjoy experimental cuisine, unpredictable timelines, and the mild thrill of not knowing whether you have already been here, this may be your place. I would return, assuming I have not already. The hostess did wave goodbye as I arrived, which feels promising.

P

Pros

Unique, memorable flavors

Excellent bread that exists in multiple eras

Staff handles paradoxes calmly

Cons

Salad knows too much

Steak refuses to commit

You may leave with fewer memories than you arrived with

Overall: Two stars. Would recommend it to enemies, adventurous friends, and myself yesterday.