I woke this morning to a much balmier Long Island and before too long the temps were in the 60's - oh so delightful that a few Spring chores beckoned. Having DH captive and (all but electronically) removed from his corporate rat-race I decided it was time time to make the most of his appearance and get the garage cleaned and sorted.
All good and done by 4pm whence we turned ourselves towards the basement to make some headway on our stash of antique and junk books - this time (ahem) a little less success.
Nevertheless, by 5pm and feeling pretty pleased with ourselves we decided to go out for dinner, did a little research online, poured through our Zagat guides and made what we thought was going to be an informed decision!
We arrive at Panama Hatties (a highly rate local venue) promptly at 7:30pm only to be left milling like globs of I don't know what, by the front door while they rustle us up a table. (and yes we had a booking) Seat us at a table in front of a brick wall, sans art, sans light and pretty much sans everything. Hmm...new table is requested. We get shuffled back to the front entrance, wait, escorted to new table which has a grand view of the service alley way, and an even better view of the dirty carpet and hole in the table cloth. I eye him, he eyes me and I grab my handbag and we head for the coat check.....
Oh you are leaving? Why demands the Chef, who for some reason is in the foyer (clearly not cooking) "ummm oh well, it's sort of not really what we had expected"...
upon which he cries...to all who can hear..."Table Walkin'...." and thrusts our coats at us as fast as he can.
We then get into the car, and thanks to the marvels of cell phone technology and GPS, manage to get a 9:15pm booking at what had been the other restaurant of choice for the night. We get there early, which is fine, and grab a drink in the bar. If I tell you that I thought I had stepped into a bad episode of the "Sopranos" it would be no exaggeration. Lots of large dudes with very odd accents, buzz hair cuts with 10% extra and big fat pinky rings....the women...hmm well how do I say this politely? Um well, very particularly enhanced, either courtesy of the local plastics guy or a lot of Victoria Secret coupons...hard to tell which.....and I am sure they were all working for L'Oriewhatisitoutofthebottle? But what would I know, I run on a treadmill and wash my hair in tapwater!
Pretty well 9:15 on the dot we get our table. Everyone is polite, nice and well mannered and all bodes well.........until the Caesar Salad comes out.
For anyone who knows me at all, I eat vegetables pretty much 6 days a week and on the 7th day I have Caesar Salad and Steak. I love scallops, prawns, lobster, hate fish, love broccoli, tomatoes and many many other things....but I am a TOTAL expert on Caesar Salad and hate it when it comes out chopped with store bought dressing.
It's meant to be leaves of Cos Lettuce, dressing made with egg yolks, have anchovies, croutons and bacon.
Chopped lettuce just does not carry the day and whatdotheyserverthere...but chopped lettuce! Ick! minus 10 points.
Steak is lovely, veggies all great, and in such good portions that there are left overs to be taken...if only the bus boy did not lose them and now I am not sure whose food I brought home!
Lastly I am a demon about the coffee....has to be fresh, tasty and just like the Italian's intended....NO CINNAMON!
All good there if I could find the coffee in the cup underneath the foam....oh well, a good foamy lip can be sexy right?
Then comes the bill...DH chucks his card in without really looking. When it comes back to be signed turns out that they had charges us 2X for the wine...........oh er Sorry Sir..it was a typo on the wine list, but we will let you have it for what you "thought" it was going to be...
Yeah right!
Have I ever mentioned that I REALLY like Subway Sandwiches! They are just the best, you can watch them make it and they even put what you REALLY like into the bun! Works for me!
So, we get home, flick on the TV and I'm greeted by a re-run of the Return to Snowy River. Nothing like the rendolent sounds of a booming orchestra, sweaty brumbies pounding down the sides of the Blue Mountains and folk speaking YOUR language to make you heartily homesick! And as the boys or DH will tell you, I am a sucker at the movies, cry at each and every one, even if they are not sad. So there I sit on the couch, in my high heels, black stockings and finery, sobbing my heart out....
Dreaming of my wide brown land downunder, hugs from my small men and real Caesar salads with bacon at the Blue Duck Cafe (Misty, you know what I mean) ....
How many days till I fly?...