divine angst

Mr. Angst and I just had the best meal.

I had received a gift certificate to this particular establishment several weeks ago, and didn’t really know what to make of it. I hadn’t heard of it, didn’t know anything about it, and actually didn’t notice the (very generous) amount until an hour or so after I’d received it. After looking it up online and seeing what it Was All About, we decided we’d go for Mr. Angst’s birthday. (As it turns out, it was also a celebration of my knowing where I’m going to work next summer.)

People. I have eaten some good foods. I have MADE some good foods. I have even spent some serious money on some good foods.

But none of that holds a candle to the foods I ate tonight. And not just the food! The service, the ambience, the wine list, all of it–what a completely WHOLE dining experience. Every bite, I enjoyed. Every sip, I enjoyed. Every minute, I enjoyed. I thought I had eaten well; I was wrong. I thought I was a “mini-foodie”; having not eaten at more restaurants like this one, I don’t think I am. I was too impressed/amazed/delighted by all of it to be able to criticize any of it–and isn’t that, after all, what foodies do?

[For those of you interested, we enjoyed an Australian pinot noir with a French prix fixe menu including such classics as salad Lyonnaise, and such non-classics as the BEST bleu cheese I have EVER had–I think from Italy. There were scallops and quail, veal and lobster, and a very nice tarte tatin to finish things off. Not to mention the two amuses bouches, compliments of the chef, and the muscato, gratis, in celebration of Mr. Angst’s birthday. Written out like that, it doesn’t seem like we could have been there for close to three hours, but we were. And every minute was outstanding. Sigh. Happiness is burbling up inside me.]

Sigh. I am full–but not overfull, a critical distinction–and happy, and actually really buoyant. Ready, I think, to attack a little thing called my comment tomorrow.

Bon appetit.