Just a brief post to state the obvious: it is good, on occasion, to indulge in an old-fashioned date. We did last night. Much as the dear one is beloved, there is a certain spring in my step that only comes when I leave the house with neither her nor a bag full of books. She and the babysitter played with stickers and I ran into the city to meet my husband for a yummy dinner at The Spotted Pig followed by Pink Martini's amazingly festive sold out concert at Town Hall. This great Oregon band--part chamber music, part Carmen Miranda--was grinning ear-to-ear to have such an enthusiastic welcome to New York. We were not alone, at all, in enjoying them. (I can also highly recommend an amazing dish at the Spotted Pig: a spicy lentil salad with creme fraiche and parsnip crisps. This description, pretty much verbatim from the menu, omits the lovely wilted arugula and the spicy ginger tomato sauce. It also fails to capture the beauty of little circular ruffles of parsnip, fried to golden perfection, sprinkled all atop the plate. Heaven.)
Back to work now. But ah! Pleasure cannot be overpraised, can it?
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