Went to lunch today with Mom and my paternal grandmother, Meme – from whence all things stylish and sparkly come. Meme wanted to go to a local “place to be seen” that had recently moved itself to a new place. The owner of this social mecca is sorta legendary around town and I am a fan of many of his other restaurants, but had never been to his high-end, pinnacle restaurant. Until today.
First, it’s beautiful. And full of Those that Wish to Be Beautiful. I was about the only one there even attempting to bring the age curve down (with my almost! 35). The décor was more intriguing than the food, but it was okay. I think I now have a place that officially defines “overrated”, although still nice. I’d go back, but wouldn’t run there.
In the middle of our appetizers, the table next to us was presented with their dessert. A towering soufflé of ginormous proportions. The entire restaurant stopped to watch this waiter bring the soufflé over to the ladies. It could have served 10 people. And it was luscious looking. Puffy and golden and oh my G-d I just wanted to put my face in it (which made me giggle).
Meme (G-d bless her) was ready to cancel lunch and just order THAT. (Proving that my love of all things yummy and pretty is CLEARLY genetic.)
As the waiter punched into the soufflé to serve it, I just kept thinking how much it looked like bubble bath bubbles that you could blow off the spoon and watch them sail across the room… right on to my plate.
Much as I tried to get my lunch companions to order this mound of loveliness, joy and beauty, they wouldn’t go for it. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!
‘Course, that just means I now have to go BACK and have the souffle. No self-respecting foodie could let this one go by without a fight. Think I could find 9 other willing accomplices?
Yeah, thought so.