Wednesday Night's Alright With Me

So, two, count 'em two, posts in one day!! Holy Smokes, People!! Why? Because. Because J, in a stroke of Husband Genius, invited yours truly on a date. J does this on the twelfth of every Never. So, when J does this sort of thing, it merits a double post. Do not get used to it. I cannot guarantee that the next twelfth of Never will ever roll around again. But, The Man did good. Especially since we recently had A Talk. Most times, when we talk, I talk, and his eyes glaze over. He nods occasionally, but I'm fairly certain none of it sinks in - it just rolls right off him. But that is neither here nor there, the point is, The Man took me on a date. Feel free to celebrate with me, won't you?

He told me I could pick, so I did. I chose the local Elite Clubhouse Restaurant, mostly because it's always fairly quiet, the scenery is spectacular, and you don't have to wait an hour for a table, even when you have a reservation. This last part came in handy when J called me at 5:10 tonight and said, "Um, I'm going to leave this Small Town in ten minutes, which'll put me home right at reservation time, can you call and push it back 15 minutes??" No prob, Bob. Other places, the Maitre d' might look down his nose at you, and say, "I'm sorry (not really), but you were 15 seconds late for your reservation, so we gave away your table." The Man got lucky; we were shown to a table as soon as we arrived. I promptly ordered wine, because this Momma likes her wine. And The Man? Well, he ordered a gin and tonic. Because he's crazy like that. Momma is not a fan of the gin, but The Man is, on occasion. After poring over the menu for ages, we both settled on the special, a ribeye steak au poivre. To summarize, it's a pepper encrusted steak, served with a wonderful cream sauce. It should've been a home run. Here's my verdict: It was okay. People, I don't mean to brag, but I'm gonna. Here's the issue I have with paying other people to cook for me-I can most likely do it better. Yes, that sounds terribly arrogant and high-brow, but there it is. I have made steak au poivre, to the delight of young and old. The problem with this one? Whole peppercorns. True, the crust is not made with the little black powder, loosely termed as ground pepper, but this? This was too much. I couldn't taste the steak. All I could taste was pepper. And I was bummed. Even J was disappointed, and that says a little something. J is not the food critic I am. But I yam what I yam. The dinner finished on a good note, because the vanilla creme brulee was fab. Oh, the creme brulee and the cheesecake and I are tight. I passed on the cheesecake, because it was white chocolate, and the white chocolate and I are not so tight. But, the creme brulee was especially nice; it was a soft creamy custard, with a fabulous brulee! And the berries were a nice touch.

So, all in all, I give the meal three stars. But the company? Oh the company gets one thousand stars, because The Man took me on a date, said, "Order whatever you want", and listened to me jabber on the entire meal. Because I am the talker in this partnership, by far. J is not a talker. But after tonight, that's okay, because I know how wonderful he can be, even when he doesn't say a thing.