I had big plans yesterday–the last day of my two weeks off work–to make an apple pie and this sausage and red pepper stew thing to serve over grilled polenta rounds. I made the pastry for the pie in the morning, then sat down to get a little work done in the afternoon. Then I tried to roll out the pastry around 4pm. Then I threw out the pastry. Then the Beast got home and I said, “Fuck dinner. Let’s go out.”
He was dressed up in nice slacks, a blazer and a scarf. I was dressed in a sweatshirt and cargo pants that I bought for $9.97 from Joe Fresh.
There’s a new place in the neighbourhood called Hey! It’s an off-shoot of Hey, Meatball! on College St.; a place I’ve heard lots of nice things about, but have never eaten at.
Foodie: This looks nice! Oh, and the prices look good too.
Beast: I can’t believe we’re eating dinner at 5:00pm.
Foodie: It’s 5:50pm. Still, you’re right. It’s going to be light out when we’re done. Want to share the kale Caesar salad? And let’s try not drinking with dinner! We can have a bottle of wine when we get home. And I can pick up some Tenderflake pastry shells and we’ll finish that apple pie I started. I bet we’ll be blown away over how cheap the bill will be without alcohol and dessert.
Beast: Remember when you took me to the Ace and said, ‘Oh it’ll be so reasonable! We’ll each just get steak frites and share a bottle of wine.’ And then we sat down and you ordered cocktails and oysters.
Foodie: Yes, I do remember that. It’s just so rare that we go out for dinner so I get excited. What are you going to have?
Beast: The burger.
Foodie: I think I’ll have the margherita pizza.
Beast: Are you kidding? This doesn’t look like the type of place you’d order pizza from. There’s not even a pizza oven.
Foodie: I know, but it’s all I feel like right now.
After our server dropped off the salad, the Beast ordered a beer.
Foodie: We said no alcohol!
Beast: Listen, I’ve had a long day at work. I couldn’t wait.
Foodie: Salad is good, don’t you think?
Beast: I do.
Foodie: I think I should try a work lunch with kale sliced real thin like this.
Beast: Oh boy.
Beast: Well, when you start talking about a meal idea, I know this is all we will talk about for the rest of the weekend.
Foodie: What about with some raisins and julienned carrots in a white wine-Dijon vinaigrette? Yes, I think that would be really good! But there’s no protein in that. Maybe some cheese, but I need to get back on my healthy routine of eating when I go back to work.
Beast: What does that mean?
Foodie: It means no meat or cheese until dinner, when I go balls out. I’ve gained 5 lb. over my holiday because I had no rules and I stopped running. Can’t you tell?
Beast: You’ve looked the exact same size since the day we met.
Foodie: Anyway, I’m going to make a kale salad for my lunches next week. And I’ll make that sausage and red pepper stew thing that came to me in a dream maybe tomorrow. And we can eat that for Sunday night dinner!
Beast: Kale is so fucking hot right now. Oh no.
Beast: I just saw a burger go by and it’s on a fucking ciabatta bun.
Foodie: Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry!
Beast: Why do people do that? What the fuck is wrong with a normal bun? Why try and fancy up a perfect thing?
Foodie: I don’t know. I just don’t know.
As the volume of babies crying and children shouting increased, as is to be expected in a family-style restaurant at an ungodly dinner hour, our mains arrived.
Foodie: Look at this pizza! It looks like a novelty-size pizza! It’s adorable! I’m going to be starving when we’re done. How’s the burger?
Beast: It’s good, besides the bun. And the homemade ketchup is really nice. That pizza looks suspicious.
Foodie: The crust isn’t crispy. It tastes like one of those whole wheat Saltine crackers, but without the salt. Whoa, that ketchup is good! Anyway, they just opened up. Things are bound to improve. Plus, I bet the brunch will be better than our dinner.
Beast: That’s the restaurant equivalent of saying that a girl has a really nice personality.
We went home, and finished the apple pie together.
We curled up on the couch with a bottle of wine and a quarter of the pie each, topped with vanilla ice cream.
We’d rented The Dictator, a film that neither of us would have laughed at if we watched it alone, but together, we had a gay old time.
The next morning, the Beast decided to clean out his closet and make room for his fall and winter wardrobe.
He tried on many outfits for me. He also showed me his new Ralph Lauren alligator skin lounging loafers. I do not know what to make of them, or his decision to buy them.
Do you know what the best part about gaining a little weight on my holiday was? Indulging at a little brunch hosted by Jessie B., who made pierogies, sausages, cinnamon buns and her world-famous coconut cream tartinas.
Indulging at Erinn’s pickle party, where there was a Baroque-like spread in her Secret Garden-like backyard of cheeses, meats, pâtés, baked beans, salt cod cakes and all the accoutrements a girl could dream of.
Indulging in lunch at Pinecroft, a beautiful cabin in the woods that my mom and I have been going to since I was little for their homemade mushroom soup and thick sandwiches made with freshly baked bread.
Indulging in everything evil at the cottage, fish and chips and steak and potatoes with my dad and donuts from Benna’s on Roncesvalles for breakfast.
And also, my expensive Swedish Nudie jeans that I gave to the Beast two years ago because they were sagging in the ass fit me again.