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Jan. 14th, 2016 10:48 amLast night I went to Deuxave, ate entirely too much and thoroughly enjoyed it.
I had a somewhat complicated salad that came in a soup-can-size cylinder of very thin fried potato, and consisted of greens, truffle vinaigrette, a mushy (but thankfully not runny) egg, roasted mushrooms, bacon, and endive. After the salad came a freebie: three cheese agnolotti and hen of the woods mushrooms on top of some squash puree and under some gremolata crumbles. After the agnolotti came the entree: spice-crusted venison loin and venison sausage on top of sunchoke "risotto" with mustard greens and quince. Everything but the quince was quite tasty. I bailed on dessert for lack of room for it and had coffee instead, but they brought me a chocolate truffle the size of a small marble, a 3/4" square of citrus-flavored layer cake and a toffee that had orange and ginger in it and stuck to the roof of my mouth fairly firmly. (Good, though.)
I didn't bother with wine, although Deuxave is supposed to be good at it. Partly because I'm cheap and I was already spending a lot of money on food. And also partly because I clomped in wearing my snow boots, and first impressions being what they are, I didn't want to be the hick in the snow boots who ordered the absolutely wrong wine. I had brought other shoes with me in case of dress codes, but it was too cold to walk in them, so I walked in my snow boots. I know I'm overthinking this, but I do that sort of thing. (And I read too much British interwar fiction, in which ordering the wrong wine is Not Done.)
Anyway, I had a very nice dinner, and now I can know what I'm missing when I go past on the M2 every Wednesday night until the end of April.
And then I came home and went to bed and had a frustration dream, again. The oral surgery course will do that. This one involved taking a mail bag across a very narrow jetty to get to the post office before it closed, but I was stuck behind somebody walking very slowly on purpose, and snarking at me about how they could walk faster than I was.
I had a somewhat complicated salad that came in a soup-can-size cylinder of very thin fried potato, and consisted of greens, truffle vinaigrette, a mushy (but thankfully not runny) egg, roasted mushrooms, bacon, and endive. After the salad came a freebie: three cheese agnolotti and hen of the woods mushrooms on top of some squash puree and under some gremolata crumbles. After the agnolotti came the entree: spice-crusted venison loin and venison sausage on top of sunchoke "risotto" with mustard greens and quince. Everything but the quince was quite tasty. I bailed on dessert for lack of room for it and had coffee instead, but they brought me a chocolate truffle the size of a small marble, a 3/4" square of citrus-flavored layer cake and a toffee that had orange and ginger in it and stuck to the roof of my mouth fairly firmly. (Good, though.)
I didn't bother with wine, although Deuxave is supposed to be good at it. Partly because I'm cheap and I was already spending a lot of money on food. And also partly because I clomped in wearing my snow boots, and first impressions being what they are, I didn't want to be the hick in the snow boots who ordered the absolutely wrong wine. I had brought other shoes with me in case of dress codes, but it was too cold to walk in them, so I walked in my snow boots. I know I'm overthinking this, but I do that sort of thing. (And I read too much British interwar fiction, in which ordering the wrong wine is Not Done.)
Anyway, I had a very nice dinner, and now I can know what I'm missing when I go past on the M2 every Wednesday night until the end of April.
And then I came home and went to bed and had a frustration dream, again. The oral surgery course will do that. This one involved taking a mail bag across a very narrow jetty to get to the post office before it closed, but I was stuck behind somebody walking very slowly on purpose, and snarking at me about how they could walk faster than I was.
