After being knee-deep in Italian lately, I decided to go all French all the way for New Year's Eve.
After a champagne cocktail, my NYE date and I had a simple little supper at Bistro Bobette of steak frites and Chateau de Vaugelas Corbiere.
It was as filling as it was well-prepared. Adding to my pleasure was running into a guy I used to see on my walk everyday (minus his dogs), one of my favorite wine geeks and the always-friendly Bobette staff.
My date had shown up wearing a muff, absolutely making my night. She and I had just recently been discussing when the last time was that anyone wore a muff.
I can only aspire to find one of my own.
After a leisurely supper, we abandoned the Slip for Amour, where we found the party in full swing when we arrived in the last hour before ball drop.
I had never spent New Year's Eve in Carytown.
Despite our recent cow, we savored a small plate of duck breast with rosemary/red onion relish with Lucien Albrecht Cremant d'Alsace Brut Rose.
Hearing the Flamingos' version of "I Only Have Eyes for You" in Amour caused our conversation to stop mid-syllable as we both let the very romantic song wash over us.
Call it New Year's Eve sentimentality. Or just a really beautiful love song.
A server to the owner said, "When you're through doing whatever it is you're doing, I need two coffees."
To be clear, he was shaking a plastic box of money at us, in a most "alms for the poor" kind of way.
Dessert was a divine espresso/hazelnut panna cotta with a chocolate wafer.
Long after the ball had dropped and the exodus of ball rats was a distant memory, there was a woman on a horse sitting outside Can Can.
Sure, we'd seen plenty of mounted cops earlier, but this was just a woman in a sweater on a horse.
The people-watching on Cary Street in Carytown (flip-flops and glitter) was exceeded only by the people-watching on Cary Street in the Slip (far too many size 16s squeezed into size 8s and wearing 5" heels).
I left lip marks on French cheeks all over town. We'll call them Happy New Year prints.
As I sit here, I hear fireworks going off in Jackson Ward.
May 2012 be everything 2011 was not.