Tuesday, September 13, 2005
amazing dinner
We had the most incredible dinner on my birthday at a restaurant called Elemental in Wallingford. I almost hesitate to write about it, for fear that even more people might go there. There are, I believe, 4 tables in the joint, plus a few armchairs and a miniature bar. They take no reservations. We went at 10:30 at night after my first CNA class, and had to wait a few minutes for a table - but that was no problem because the incredibly friendly owner/host pulled up some armchairs and fixed us some mystery drinks. We eventually got him to tell us they were made of white port, club soda, and lime juice. Ahhh!
Then, he moved us to a table, handed 'round menus that listed a variety of small plates, and encouraged us to share. We saw that the menu offered "wine service" which turned out to mean a steady parade of glasses to go with each plate as it arrived. My dad was elected to be the Sober Guy who would drive us home, and when he declined the wine, he was instead treated to a nonalcoholic pear cider so he wouldn't feel left out.
We got completely drunk, had some AMAZING food, and apparently said some extremely funny things. My mother proclaimed that she wanted to marry the heirloom tomatoes in the caprese. What you may not know is that "marry" is a polite code word for "fuck" in my mother's vocabulary. R* alleged that he was so enchanted by the fig and cheese tart, he believed he may already be pregnant by it, regardless of the lack of intercourse with said dessert. I believe I announced my intention to rub my face in that same fig tart.
After plying us with cocktails, wines, and teeny pours of raspberry liquor, someone let it slip to our host that it was my birthday. The last thing to arrive at the table was a little glass of what I think was tawny port, topped with a disk of cardboard bearing a birthday candle. So festive!
By the time we got home, well after 1:00 AM, I could hardly focus my eyes. I fell asleep holding R*'s hand in an effort to keep the bed from spinning out from under me. I think we're going to go back for R*'s birthday in November.
What the pros have to say.
Then, he moved us to a table, handed 'round menus that listed a variety of small plates, and encouraged us to share. We saw that the menu offered "wine service" which turned out to mean a steady parade of glasses to go with each plate as it arrived. My dad was elected to be the Sober Guy who would drive us home, and when he declined the wine, he was instead treated to a nonalcoholic pear cider so he wouldn't feel left out.
We got completely drunk, had some AMAZING food, and apparently said some extremely funny things. My mother proclaimed that she wanted to marry the heirloom tomatoes in the caprese. What you may not know is that "marry" is a polite code word for "fuck" in my mother's vocabulary. R* alleged that he was so enchanted by the fig and cheese tart, he believed he may already be pregnant by it, regardless of the lack of intercourse with said dessert. I believe I announced my intention to rub my face in that same fig tart.
After plying us with cocktails, wines, and teeny pours of raspberry liquor, someone let it slip to our host that it was my birthday. The last thing to arrive at the table was a little glass of what I think was tawny port, topped with a disk of cardboard bearing a birthday candle. So festive!
By the time we got home, well after 1:00 AM, I could hardly focus my eyes. I fell asleep holding R*'s hand in an effort to keep the bed from spinning out from under me. I think we're going to go back for R*'s birthday in November.
What the pros have to say.
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Sounds amazing! A very foodie friend of mine is just moving back to Seattle. I sent him a link to the review and a strong recommendation he find the place.
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