A Date Night

18 Feb

Tonight, my man and I went on a date.

A real, honest to goodness date.

We traded our ripped jeans and converse sneaks, time constraints and rushed conversations

for a dim, cozy seat in a corner booth. And heels. High heels.

We went to this place.

We sat upstairs at the bar, and together we read every item on the menu, taking in each ingredient and each moment.

Now, ordinarily I’d post my dinner shots over there (up there, to the right. You got it, now?) in my Family Dinner spot. But this dinner deserves more. This dinner was something special.

We started with the Toro Tartare.

(Yes, I was the loon taking pictures of my food (not the only one, might I add) and yes, I was embarrassed, but hey. I did it for you. Don’t ever say I don’t love you.)

Let me just say, this was one of the best bites of food I’ve eaten. This dish was serious. It came with instructions.

Take your little spoon, add some coarse wasabi, take a scoop of the Toro with a bit of caviar, and then slide it into the Mirin and Dashi broth, and eat it all at once.

Ridiculously delicious.

And it came with these little Japanese pitted berries to eat afterwards as a palate cleanser.

And let me just tell you,

the snozberries tasted like snozberries. Magic.

  Next came the chef’s selection of sushi. A surprise! One of my favorite surprises ever.

Each bite was better than the last.

And I treated myself to one of these bad boys.

Ikura is not only my favorite piece of sushi, but it also has a special place in my heart.

And not because they look like Nemo.

Ikura was my very first taste of sushi.

I was in fourth grade, down the shore with my Nanny and Poppy. We walked the Ocean City boardwalk, and they decided to cool off with a sushi lunch. Although the idea of boardwalk sushi on a hot, summer day is somewhat repulsive, I fell in love with the delicacy that day, and will never, ever forget it.

Oh, so yeah, this Ikura tonight was badass. Almost as good as the one from the dirty boardwalk stand. Almost.

Next, we shared the duck. Oh, the duck. While I forget the actual description, I can tell you that it was an incredible duck breast, with a side of duck confit fried rice, topped with a duck egg. And let me tell you, when we broke into that duck egg and all of the gooey yoke spread through the rich, savory rice, it felt, to me, how I imagine kids feel on Christmas morning. Pure bliss.

Full and happy, we scanned the dessert menu, only to find the perfect love child between the two of our palates: A tres leches cake (husband’s favorite) made with green tea, red beans and a honey butter ice cream (all me).

Yes, please.

And it was perfect.

But, the truth is, although our dinner was sensationally delicious, it didn’t really matter.

We were on a date. We talked about ourselves. We caught up. We kissed between bites. I had no one to feed but myself. And my husband.

I was able to give my husband advice on some projects he is working on. He was able to give me a hard time for over-sharing to our waitress.

It was lovely. It was delicious.

And while we love our little girl oh so much,

we knew she was in good hands.

She was busy dancing with Bubbie to her favorite song;

Having her nails painted hot pink by her Zeydie;

And having her Great-Aunt help her tuck Abby Cadabby into her new crib.

And by the time we came to pick her up, still on high from the wonder of our meal,

it was a bit late, and time to get her home, into the bath, jammies and bed.

But, as we were getting ready to head out, my baby’s Uncles showed up at the back door,

smiling ear to ear.

They decided to stop by on their way out on the town, just to give us all quick hellos and big hugs.

And somehow, those quick hellos turned into an hour of talking and laughing,

as we all ended up crowding into my parents’ bedroom, half of us snuggled up in their bed,

trying on clothing, howling at how silly we looked, reminiscing, taking pictures, telling stories and laughing at our inside jokes.

And it was delicious.


So, we got home late.

Way past all of our bedtimes.

But, a night out with the one I love,

followed by a night in with the ones we adore,

that is sweet, irreplaceable time

and the honey butter icing

on the green tea tres leches cake.


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