Good friends invited many other good friends to dinner recently, at a local high end restaurant redux, to celebrate their daughter’s completing an internship at that same not aforementioned restaurant. The daughter is a budding food scientist, not becoming well known for a kick ass salad dressing recipe because, well, the company where she created the recipe retains all rights to profit off the genius of others. (Hyperbole? Maybe. Off topic? Definately.)
So, the dinner was very good, like it always is there. Never spectacular like you want/expect, but always good. (and, lack of “spectacular” most likely owes much/little to the neighborhood, the area, the lack of demand for “spectacular”, which in turn leads to a lack of resources to create “spectacular”) A vicious cycle. And, again, I am off topic.
(Focus Plath, focus)
So, a very good dinner, some very good wine for under $60.00 then an ok wine for under $60.00 when the first very good wine for under $60.00 ran out (86′d) after a couple of bottles.
So, very good dinner, very good and very ok wine for a good/ok price, much conversation, many laughs, great desserts, a visit from expoloited scientist-intern-graduate daughter who came out of the kitchen on her last night to say hello.
And, after months of interning and restaurant exposure from the bright side of the wall, and many lessons for certain, and a couple of hours of wining and dining in her honor (mostly-sort of) I asked said daughter “What next?”
With her very best Lowell ghetto-fabulous the-head-shifts-on-neck, left-then-right, she responded;
“Well, I ain’t gonna be working in no restaurant kitchen, that’s for sure”
No shit. Good stuff. Was that a Balvenie Doublewood I spotted at the bar on the way in?