"Hello?"

"Is Roman there?"

Not even a hello back? How rude of her.
"No. You have the wrong number."

"What number is this? 647 *** ****?"

"Yes, obviously the number you'd dialled..."

"You don't have to be a bitch OK?"

CLICK

Of course I had to call her back and tell her that she didn't have to resort to name-calling, then hanging up like a coward.

"The number you are calling cannot receive incoming calls. This is a recording."

Cheap bitch.

Date with George

Seeing as I did not have any plans for this evening, I decided to make the most of my 416 visit today. I couldn't justify making the two-hour trek home after only spending 5.5 hours at work. So I narrowed it down to two options: 1) stick around the Distillery for a few more hours and buy myself a rush ticket for The Real Thing or 2) eat something yummy.

It was an easy decision. Would have been nice if M was free to come along -- but she was in Girl Guide mode and had to get ready for her big camping trip this weekend. Good thing I had my magazine with me!

The best thing about dining alone when price is not a huge concern, is that you can go pretty much anywhere without worrying about companions' budgets. I was definitely feeling splurgey -- so I headed over to George, a classy little joint located in an exclusive ladies' club on Queen East. I have always wanted to go there and decided that I really didn't need to wait for that special occasion to make it so. After having an extremely disappointing dining experience at Giovanna's last Saturday (you would think that dinner for one shouldn't have to take over an hour to prepare -- especially if it's just Spaghetti al Pescatore!) I knew I'd find better service anywhere I went tonight.

No wine, just a bottle of sparkling water to start -- San Benedetto, recent generous sponsor of a fabulous cross-city bike ride for charity. If it weren't for that damn missing enzyme, I would have gone all out and done flights. (Note to self: stock up on Pepcid AC.) Like I said, I was feeling splurgey. Observing my surroundings, I noticed that the perfectly-coiffed and -manicured WASPs in suit jackets and Muskoka tans way outnumbered those of us (one) in a $30 outfit and unkempt eyebrows.

The amuse-bouche was a romaine heart spear, topped with bocconcini, crushed walnuts and a prosciutto vinaigrette. I am a bit of a salt wuss, so this was not something I would consider ordering. The cheese certainly helped to mellow out the flavours of the nuts and dressing.

Three courses are normally recommended as the portions are fairly small, but not wanting to get bellyaches on the ride home, I was good and only went for two courses.

First, Butter-Poached Lobster with Asparagus and Curried Quinoa. The lobster tail was slightly undercooked and so very moist. Appearance-wise, the asparagus stalks were a little on the thick side, but they were still grilled to the right degree of tenderness. I don't think I've ever had quinoa but this was a great introduction to it -- the curry spice definitely balanced out the subtler flavourings of the lobster and asparagus.

Second, Spicy Pork Tenderloin with Sweet Potato Almond Croquet and Fava Beans. I do love my meat pink and I make no exception to pork. I heard myself sigh as I sunk my knife into the dark pink centre of the meat. I could have cut it with the side of my fork. Most places will only serve your pork medium well and white, but this place made it rare. As I chewed slowly and savoured the juices, I made a conscious effort not to wiggle, as I sometimes do when I am happy with whatever's in my mouth.

For dessert, I chose the Raspberry Lime Tart (I'm so predictable) with Ice Wine Mousse and Fresh Raspberries. And coffee, black. Christ. I can't remember the last time food produced quivers in me. I didn't want this course to end :(

I left the restaurant not full, but not hungry. It was just enough food for a summer evening. So glad I went -- will definitely be back again, with or without a friend.

This entry was posted purely for the salivating satisfaction it might bring to M.

head

sequestered in the suburbs

Time's actually flying by. Two weeks down, one more to go.

This hasn't been as horrible as I'd anticipated -- despite that one Sunday incident, after travelling two hours I realized, while standing on my front porch, that I'd left the other set of keys on my bed, downtown. After walking a couple kilometers to find a payphone, my hero from Scarborough came to the rescue. I was worried about the cats starving, but he assured me that "cats are resilient creatures." They're fine now ^_^

It's nice having the entire house to myself, even though I only go into half the rooms. What I'll miss, when I go back to the Château next week: cooking, while Brie perches close by, waiting for me to turn my back so that she can lick the chicken; Annie snuggling by my hip as I fall asleep; walking around the house in my undiepants; in-house, coin-free laundry; watching the lean, nubile, sweaty boys mow our lawn on Friday afternoons. Sigh.