My dear, sweet, knows-me-so-well husband treated me to dinner tonight and it didn't disappoint. It's just another reason to keep Williamsburg on my list (you know, the list of places to consider living when no one else is making that decision for us. Surely everyone has a list, right? Or maybe that's a military thing). Something about a really great meal out makes me feel less like a stay at home mom and more like a woman with an expense account. I think this attitude comes from years of dining out on a company's dime, often in the company of corporate chefs, and seeking hotspots in large cities. Back in the good ol' days it happened with some frequency but now it's a really indulgent treat since the expense account is directly linked to the "must have dollars to pay for groceries and small people's needs" account.
But no matter. Tonight I dined on seared ahi, ever so gently wrapped in nori and tempura fried to perfection. In one bite I was back in Japan. And then I moved on to pheasant with gnocchi, chantarelles and miscellaneous other bits of yumminess. To my recollection, I've never had pheasant before but when dining on an expense account, it's nice to try new things. It was delicious. If the restaurant hadn't been so busy, I might have licked the bowl. Good thing I didn't since that meant I had room for pistachio brownies with sea salt and some sort of espresso ice cream with frothy goodness topping and yummy crunchy bits, too. That's not exactly how the menu described it, but it was close. Also? I will undoubtedly attempt to replicate some portion of this meal at home. It's bound to be disappointing, but surely worth a try.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll be a chef when I grow up. But maybe not, because I suspect part of tonight's joy was a result of me sitting at the table while the pleasant server charged our glasses and those nice men in fancy hats stood over the hot cooktop while I sipped my wine. Or maybe it's that nothing was served as a value meal, combo or available via drive-through. Or maybe it's because I actually talked to my husband instead of reminding fellow diners about using nice manners.
Now if only I could make myself feel this way over PB&J when my man's not around. I'll let you know how that goes.