Much to report!
Lemon Tree – I don’t see a single pea-sized fruit anywhere. Lots of blossoms left so I guess it’s not game over yet but lots of flower-drop, too. I did clip off some leaves (see below) and a new leaf is already growing from that spot so there’s life in the tree it’s just that it remains uncertain if fruit is in the tree.
Retro party food – I made two Jello poke cakes in two weeks. There they are:
Now it’s out of my system and I don’t have to make any more of them. Which is lucky, because you can see that I’m already out of ideas.Of note in these two photos is that the round cake was transported in a covered cake carrier that I got from the Dollar Tree for one dollar and the rectangular cake is my first foray into decorating with lemon leaves.
Went to a seafood restaurant for dinner on Sunday. It’s the kind of single owner, non-franchise place that I usually like. Sami, you know, is a fussy patron and things started off on the wrong foot when he ordered a “Sweet Rob Roy on the rocks” and it was delivered on the rocks but in a martini glass which he found intolerable. I asked the waitress for an empty rocks glass so I could pour Sami’s drink into it and when she finally came back with it, it was a beer glass. Note that we did ask if they had a full service bar before we ordered anything so outre as a cocktail on the rocks in a rocks glass.
Also, when the martini glass full of booze and rocks was delivered, the waitress put it down in front of me and when I started to slide it over to Sami, the base of the glass caught on an uneven plank in the table and about half of the contents sloshed out. The waitress stood and watched but never said a thing as we scrambled for paper napkins to gather the rocks and mop up the booze. Those wet napkins stayed at the edge of the table for the whole meal when the food came, it was plunked down without any napkin replacement.
The menu was large, the food was dished up in very big portions but is some of the most god-awful stuff I’ve had in a long time. Here is Sami very pleased about the three enormous pieces of haddock in his Fish ‘N Chips basket … then he tasted it.
Anyway, long story short: I’ll never get him back there. Eateries only get one chance with him and that chance is 90% dependent on the server and 10% dependent on the quality of the food.
Our visit to that place is summed up by this brief video shot underneath the illuminated rotating lobster that welcomes you to the restaurant.
Scene: Upon departure after the meal
The players: A married couple.
Action: He – [complains] / She – [shushes]
Just want you to know that I’ve been out of gin for three days. I know! – I’ve been handling this misfortune remarkably well. Not sure how long I can tolerate this. That is all.
At least in New Jersey, it is. Speaking as a person who paid $10.00 for an espresso martini last night, this article resonated with me:
link via Maggie’s Farm, always my first read of the day
And I had that espresso martini in a burger joint in Bumville, NJ not in a swanky Manhattan lounge. I used my unofficial and uncredentialed but avidly pursued status as a Booze Detector to determine that there was precious little actual booze in the thing, if any at all.
That’s what I get for veering from my usual practice of ordering drinks made from nothing except booze and ice. Here’s last night’s photo of the boozeless $10.00 concoction.
We continue to go to that place because:
- Sami thinks they have the best burgers in NJ
- They make a Sweet Rob Roy on the rocks exactly as it should be and they do it without needing an explanation from us.
- It’s on our drive home from Philadelphia
Lesson learned. From now on, it’s an extra dry gin martini straight up in the approximate vicinity of a big green olive speared on a plastic cocktail stirrer. Maybe a bottled beer once in a while.
I feel somewhat the traitor to the glorious concoction. I’ve lately taken to using a Tipsy Onion which I know pushes the thing into Gibson territory but I don’t care. I don’t mind being bathed in vermouth every once in a while. But not as a regular thing.
Here’s an National Review article that gives a whole new meaning to the term “getting borked” . I like to think that in my own little way, I honor the man on the occasional evening at 5pm.
Respectfully disagree about the stemmed glass, though. Vintage sherbet glasses are the way to go.