Schneestille

Well, yesterday's predicted snowmaggedon wasn't, but that didn't prevent tonnes of people from staying home Just In Case. Some apparently didn't have much choice, as schools were declaring snow days preemptively. There you have it: Just over the course of my two decades here, Chicago has become Baltimore.

All this left Lincoln Square eerily quiet when monshu and I rendezvoused there for dinner. Even Gene's had closed early on account of the weather and I don't think I ever saw more than four other tables occupied at Selmarie. I've been a little disappointed with dinner there before, but I've got no complaints about my cheddar-horseradish grits with "woodland mushrooms" (i.e. maitake) and buffalo sausage (the Old Man predictably wanted more horseradish). The brussels sprout salad was well seasoned, but most of the sprouts were overcooked to mushiness and monshu hates them served cold.

This may be the first time I've ever dined there without indulging in some pastry, but the meal was simply too rich. Besides, I thought there'd be some sweets at the release party afterwards; I was wrong. We were supporting my Famous Author Friend (perhaps that needs further qualification?), but we didn't stay long: it was already past the Old Man's bedtime and I had a toothache that still hasn't gone away. Under other circumstances, I might've felt more like socialising, but after Mozhu (re?)introduced me to one of her colleagues, I felt like we were having the same conversation we'd had upon the release of FAF's last book and realised I'd feel an order of magnitude better holed up at home.