A smoother, bluer diamond

[muckefuck]

No matter how desirous I may be about eating healthier, less fattening food, I cannot resist the siren call of the Spicy Buffalo Chicken Wrap. Thank the stars they're a limited-time menu option. (Or not? Would I eat fewer if I knew they were an eternal temptation, like the sugar cookies I so bravely refused to purchase just now?)

Lovely meal last night. At first, monshu didn't even want to go out at all. Then I complained that he wasn't giving me any chance to treat him on his birthday, so he agreed to let me take him to a snooty bistro on Clark Street. However, when dinnertime rolled around, he decided he wasn't in the mood for snootiness or bistro food or a walk to Clark Street, so we went to Mia Francesca instead.

Given the staff, it really should be Mi Francisca. (We'll forget about the shady-looking Russian valets for a moment.) If they had been any more inobtrusively efficient, I would've thought myself in the Château de la Bête. For some reason, even though we don't go very often, we have a regular booth; they always seat us in the same place for some reason. Not that I'm complaining; now that the bar's gone completely non-smoking, it's one of the nicer seats in the house.

My tilapia was nice and golden on the outside and the topping was very nice--even if the chef did take the liberty of mining it with an unannounced fresh tomato garnish. (Pah, pah, phtooey!) monshu's salmon with cream sauce was perhaps a little better though. He gave himself the rare indulgence of chocolate cake and manfully refrained from having the staff stick a candle in it.

I really can't describe how elated I felt strolling through the park afterwards. Sure, I was a little tight from the terra di tufo and the Drambuie, the flowers really were lovely, and there was a refreshingly summerlike breeze in the air. But it was really all frosting for the incredible treat of sharing a milestone with my honey. I'd wanted something grander, something with more pomp and extravagance, but far better to have an evening that was low-key and flawless than to attempt too much and have it end in tears. If I learned anything from my father's last two big birthdays, that's it.

Comments

[foodpoisoningsf.livejournal.com]

terra di tufo?

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

It's a big Tuscan white, a little tarter than a full-bodied pino grigio. I'm not sure if that's a brand name, a denomination of origin, or what, but it's how monshu always orders it.

[foodpoisoningsf.livejournal.com]

From the Maremma. I was thinking of Greco di Tufo, from Campania. Like Aglianico (hellenic) from grapes that go back to the Greek colonization of South Italy. Both areas have tufo a soft limestone much favored by the Romans.

[snowy-owlet.livejournal.com]

(1) Can you believe that I never ate at Mia Francesca?

(2) Would it be too much to ask that you give him a big freaking tongue kiss from me, given that he wouldn't actually want one from me?

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

(2) First thing tomorrow, I promise!