ROY'S

It was our 6th anniversary last night and we indulged ourselves. For the first time in Rosie's 25 months of life, we left her with a babysitter and went out to dinner.
It was sort of, totally, SPECTACULAR.
Roy's Prix Fix tasting and Hawaiian menus.
I can't really describe it, so here's my tone-poem, free-association, modern dance interpretation of the evening's partakings:
snappy limu seeweed gelatinous sprigs, caramel sauce on meaty ravioli, crispy wontons with ponzu, flaky fish , sesame oil and chili edamame, filet mignon melting onto wasabi mashed potatoes, crisp fried lotus root salad, misoyaki butterfish, asperagus and mac nut crusted white fish, chocolate lava souffle and four delicate little scoops of tropical sorbets with tiny fruit cubes on top, all sworled with elegant dabs of flavorful reductions and sauces on wide plates, low lighting and the sharp awareness of a rare event combined to make a singularly ROMANTIC evening. Roymantic? Har har.
I found myself feeling geriatric next to the waitress who talked like this:
"I just graduated from high school? And I got accepted to UH? And um, the, um, apple turnover? Is baked in puff pastry? And served with a caramel, um, crust?"
We got to watch the commotion in the kitchen through a huge window. Reminded me slightly of the lemur cage at the zoo. But it was inspiring, and absolutely DIVOON.
Happy anniversary, honey! Let's do it again next year!

Comments

  1. Wow. Sounds like quite the evening. I guess I have an anniversary, too, so I should look into where we could indulge ourselves this year. It'll be 9 for us in August.

    Love the free association.

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  2. You lasted a long time without a babysitter-- wow. How did Rosie do?

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  3. I loved the free verse poem: I must imitate. But given an unexplained incapacity to understand food words, I'm going to add my own verse, imitating the awesome sway and syllabic cadence effect, but with my vocabulary, and I'll start with the word verification I'm supposed to enter at the end of this comment, sprinkled with Hungarian, because I'm in Budapest--and it is after all a food theme:

    Codulain covered jegyeven, dappled with shelled halalkeszlet, majus sauce, steamed in tovabbi tovabbi, mortar nusz, and moist ban; szaturnuzs zsofia on green ranciere gedo and ilka fried stehna, plantain whorled wothusala with a garnish of paprika gobletitos. Serve with high tide and low lint.

    Aside from honestly finding my taste neurons fired by our poems, it appears one of us is up too late trying to preempt jetlag--I won't say who.

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