Friday, June 27, 2008

Evening ...

Oh boy. I think I might regret having that espresso after dinner.

Tonight, mom and I popped into Lucrezia's for dinner, an adorable restaurant in a converted Queen Anne house in Crown Point.

For John's benefit (because he likes it when I write about food), I started with the yellow tomato salad, which I love, but which I must refrain from ordering until later in the season when yellow tomatoes – and every other color tomato, for that matter – are worth eating. But even with a too-firm yellow tomato, the salad holds up. Because even an average tomato is made better when drizzled with pesto, and smothered in sliced red onion, diced red tomato, kalamata olives, crumbles of blue cheese, and a healthy handful of toasted pine nuts. Delicious in late June, it will be mind-blowing in mid-August.

My entree was 100 percent not on the Brandon plan, but I couldn't pass it up: farfalle pasta tossed with grilled chicken, olive oil, garlic, fresh tomato, wisps of basil – practically filaments of basil – and goat cheese. Come to think of it, caramelized onions were supposed to be involved, but they were missing. No matter. It was delicious. How can I be expected to pass up anything containing goat cheese?

We were far too full for dessert (Lucrezia's has great bread and the bus staff keeps it coming, all ... night ... long) but I thought an espresso was in order.

Amazingly enough, I seem to feel a bit sleepy. Here's hoping I didn't set my body's clock ahead several hours tonight.

Dinner wasn't necessarily part of the plan tonight, but it was lightly raining and our plan for the evening required being outside, so we thought we'd wait out the weather over dinner.

Excellent plan. By the time we were finished, the clouds gave way to evening sun – don't you love this time of year? – and a breeze arrived.

Around town tonight was 4th Friday Arts, a monthly happening that pairs artists with various businesses in town: photographers, painters, potters, singers, actors, you name it. There was even a roving band of ballet dancers, young dancers who could not have been cuter in their assorted tutus and costumes.

Dwellings, my friend Lenore's store, was hosting a potter who creates amazing art, but who, unfortunately doesn't sell it. He was just there to exhibit. Which is OK, I guess, to just have people admire your work, but I'm rather accustomed to artists selling art.

Happily, at another store down the street from Lenore's, an artist was selling her art. And I bought a piece.

I fell in love with this face. I have no idea where I'm going to put it, but when I love something, I buy it. And shockingly, it was only $25. After I paid her, I said, "You really need to charge more for your work."

"Really?" she asked. Oh yes, I told her. It's worth much more. She said she'd consider it.

Someday, I fully expect this woman to be wildly famous, and I'll have a great story to tell, about how I bought an original Michelangelo-worthy watercolor from her at Birds of a Feather for 25 bucks.

My mother, by the way, known by half the town by her stunning grey hair and (former) braid (she gets it cut every so often and donates it to Locks of Love), ran into several people she knew, all of whom told me that my mother is amazing. To which I replied, with a smile, "She's my favorite mom."

1 Comments:

Blogger Mercurie said...

That is one impressive picture. I agree. The artist will hit it big one day!

7:35 PM  

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