Sunday, August 2, 2009

Even I can't pull off that kind of snooty intellectualism

When I was waiting for my flight to DC last week in Logan, I texted my friend, Wounded at Broken Elbow. We hadn't seen each other since we broke sushi-bread together at the beginning of the summer. "I'm sitting in the airport. Reminded of our epic flight back from Russia, almost exactly a year ago."

She texted me back that she's going to vacation in the Middle East before she heads out west for school. I don't know if she has no fear of being labeled a terrorist (I just have no faith in security after hearing stories about my uncle getting stopped for a full search, while his two toddlers are allowed to run unchecked through the terminal) but I suppose different strokes...

We met up last Wednesday for some grub and chug, Wounded, her boyfriend, J.S. Eliot, and me. Perhaps in honor of their vacation, we went to Cava. It was highly enjoyable, and the food was delicious. I just wish I understood what the eff I was doing there; I ordered a sashimi that's not actually on their online menu, and had no idea what wine I should pair it with without getting mocked for breaking The Rules™. I settled on an unoaked chardonnay because I think I heard somewhere that fish and white wines go together.

Wounded ordered mezze, a smorgasbord (minus the meat, plus the chickpeas) of hummus, cheese, tabbouleh, baba ghanoujh, etc. Unfortunately, some guy at the bar was screaming at the top of his lungs at his friends while she was ordering, so the waitress thought she said "mussels," not "mezze."

Oh well. I got a free mussel. The rest we gave to the waitstaff; we figured they get to look at delicious food all day, and it's only on mess-ups they can nibble. We've all been there. Plus both Wounded and Eliot are vegetarians.

Then we sped over to TPR for a more relaxed atmosphere. Although one* must admit - it's good to have friends with whom one can feel welcome to hit up a swank place like Cava, not know how at all to act properly, and come out alive, flushed, passing from one topic to another in smooth and seemless continental logic of conversation.

*by which I mean "I." I want to bring "one" back.

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