Two hours of happiness

I’ve always wanted to eat a squash blossom, but I’ve never remotely imagined dipping pieces of giant peanut butter-cum chocolate chips-cum bacon topped cookies in bourbon infused sweet milk. Huh?

All this was part of the Wednesday night garden dinner with Julie and Penny at Jax Kitchen. The proud bearer of a Groupon that needed to be used up, I figured what the hell. I had never been there before. Dan and I usually don’t venture that far out of  our hood.

The crisp squash blossom apps were filled with Mexican chorizo and shrimp (probably Mexican too), set on a purple grilled onion “flower.” Really too pretty to eat but we forced ourselves. Our waitperson was a fine young man, an enthusiastic salesman. He was great. He knew his wine.

“We have this garden downtown. Everything on this menu comes from our own garden.” Wait a minute, chorizo? Shrimp? I still trusted him. The farmer’s salad comes with “our” squash + zucchini, bacon lardon (which I never heard of before), a soft-boiled egg and lemon oil. Gush it all together and it was yummy. Heirloom tomatoes too.

I don’t mind naming all these refined new vegetables. As a writer, a person who adores words, it’s fine to make everything we eat sound so artistic, even poetic.

Julie even took pictures of some of the dishes.  I always ask to hear about the desserts, which satisfies me enough to not order anything. Not tonight. I succumbed.

Two weeks ago I lost a few pounds. I had started to change my eating habits. Then Dan took me to Feast for a lovely dinner following a very difficult week.

Meat meat meat. Bar-b-q ribs rubbed with coffee grounds, which I chomped on like a cavewoman. Licked my fingers and all. Cured all that ailed me.

We finished the meal with Doug Levy’s outrageously gooey chocolate (decadence?) $.65 cookies, the best food bargain in town. A small cookie for each of us seemed just right.

This evening, a thin young woman at the next table with her boyfriend stared down a full plate. Had she eaten anything all day, or all week? Would she be able to zip her jeans up the next morning? Ahh…so much holds little importance to the young. Metabolism takes care of itself. Each day rolls smoothly into the next.

And life goes on. Some people eat nasturtium sandwiches. My uncle Joe went out to to eat and ordered spaghetti with ketchup. We had liver and onions for dinner growing up. Tonight I finally tasted a squash blossom.

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1 Response to Two hours of happiness

  1. Pingback: Stories are food - Telling Stories

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