Wednesday Paycheck

Tonight I got paid for my work in food and drink.

I could get used to this. Seems to me I can probably eat and drink far more than I'm worth.

We met at Ettamae's for dinner because I wanted to eat in the 'hood.

That and they call me "Legs" at Ettamae's (it says so right on their website), which can be pretty satisfying after a long day with no one but myself for company.

The boys and I started with wine and an antipasto platter, full of marinated mushrooms, artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, meats and cheeses.

I refused to place my order until I'd grazed off of it in case my order changed.

It sure did.

Actually, I'm sure a lot of it also had to do with those hot yeasty rolls that arrived at the table with mounds of salty butter.

Spare ribs became a shrimp-salad stuffed tomato after so much meat and cheese.

Not so with one of my dining companions and his penne pasta with the kielbasa I recommended provided some delicious bites for me.

But my shrimp salad was notable too, not overly mayonaised and with a piquant flavor that complemented the last of the Hanover tomatoes.

The collards were out of this world and the server almost got a fork in her hand when she tried to remove the bowl prematurely.

Chef Matt is a pro with collards, corned beef and kielbasa, in case you haven't been in my neighborhood lately.

Our trio enjoyed the conversation almost as much as the food, but that's probably because we're all such different people.

One of us is the kittens and ice cream type and one is the smart-alecky non-fashionista type and then there's me.

And not one of us had room for dessert, a real shame at Ettamae's.

Then they were off to Cafe Diem (just can't do it) and I to Xtra's to meet a friend for $10 bubbles and conversation.

I've been to Xtra's on Wednesdays before and the bubble-seeking crowds were monstrous.

Not so tonight where the vibe was low-key and kind of relaxing.

It was odd, but the bartender says it swings one way or the other on Wednesdays.

But, yes, every single person in the room, even the craft beer pro who waved hello, was drinking bubbles,

As did we. The Simonet Blanc de Blanc Brut did a fine job of lubricating her upcoming date concerns and my, well, lack of dating concerns.

Our server asked if we wanted to order food before the kitchen closed and I declined, still full from dinner.

"No, alcohol is good," my friend told him.

Grinning, he replied, "Alcohol is good."

Makes me wonder how he gets paid.