I walked into CousCous with a friend tonight and the first thing I heard was my name shouted loudly, followed by, "Why the hell weren't you at the Jason Wembley show last week?" What happened to, "Good evening. Table for two?" But he was hugging me as he said it, so it was almost the same. It was the omnipresent Parker and, to be fair to him, I had planned to be at Gallery 5 for that show but ended up having my idyllic hospital stay instead.
I chose my favorite bar seat, the one under the TV so I never have to know it's there. It didn't take long to discover that the bartender is a neighbor of mine and a whiskey-lover to boot; J-Ward must be rampant with them. I debated telling him about my Whiskey Wednesday friends, but decided against it...I mean it's really not my place.
In between discussing the advantages of city living in the snow and the upcoming whiskey tasting at CousCous, he brought us food: sweet corn fritters with chipotle creme fraiche, my favorite soup, the harira (oxtail, rice and veggie), a lovely cucumber salad with Manchego cheese, curry fries cooked twice perfectly, chicken B'strilla (the sweet and spicy Moroccan pot pie with chicken, eggs, almonds, onions and apricots in pastry) interspersed with explaining the menu to my friend, a first-time customer. Oddly enough, she had no trouble understanding the hazelnut chocolate torte.
Afterwards, we went back to her house for the pineapple-infused vodka she had made for a recent party. I'm not a vodka drinker, so I tasted it for the sake of experiencing her delicious creation, but I'm betting it would be plenty popular with the right crowd. Better than the vodka was the roaring fire she made as soon as we walked in, making for a cozy setting to for her to deliver her opinion on my recent reconnection and all its implications, best summed up as"You go, girl."
Which begs the question: Is there such a thing as resetting your life clock and seeing what happens?