I Do for an Evening

If you're going to go to dinner with a husband, always pick a happily married one.

They make the best company because they have no agenda.

Besides, it had been months since we'd gotten together and he'd missed celebrating my birthday with me.

And we can't start the lead-up to his birthday until we finish celebrating mine.

Okay, so that's my rule, but he graciously went along with it.

I've no doubt he tolerates such peccadilloes solely because I'm not his real wife.

His busy schedule had left no time for new restaurants, so that was priority one.

We decided on Deco in the Museum District once we heard about the Sicilian street food part of the menu.

The tiny bar has backless, red Lucite stools and while they didn't look particularly comfy, we were wrong.

Hubby and I decided they fit our backsides awfully well.

He got his usual heavily bruised martini and I went with a glass of Analissa Pinot Grigio while I heard tales of our time apart.

Biggest laugh goes to the knife skills class he taught where he sliced his finger open and had to staunch the blood running down his arm out of sight of his eager pupils.

The scar was impressive.

Eventually, our server asked if we wanted to order and did we ever.

A look at the menu and there it was, a selection of small plates featuring the kinds of food you'd find on the streets of Sicily.

That's when our server lowered the boom, informing us that they were out of all of them except the salad and the olives.

No meatballs, no arancini, no chickpea fritters or battered cauliflower.

"Where do you want to go to eat?" the borrowed husband asked, not willing to settle for pasta or an entree.

No longer would red Lucite cradle our butts.

Since he was still in the mood for small plates, I suggested Six Burner, knowing he hadn't been in since they went to an all tapas menu.

As a bonus, it was half off wine by the glass night and my favorite man in pumps was bartending.

Some things are just meant to be.

After scoring some Gavi and another bruised martini, this one with three olives on steroids, we began ordering.

Hubby was all but salivating over so many interesting flavor profiles on the menu.

Our first must-have was the crowder peas, butter beans and Hubbs peanuts in sorghum molasses.

Toothsome beans and crunchy peanuts in a sauce best described as sweet and heat made for a dish both us could have eaten a lot more of.

Based on my last visit, we got the huevos rancheros-style calamari with Mexican chorizo and quail eggs.

For the second time, the combination of spicy calamari and sausage with melt-in-your-mouth soft-cooked eggs was irresistible.

Bluefish with sauteed shitakes in sorrel sauce took me back to the Friday dinners of my childhood where we alternated rockfish one week and bluefish the next.

But let's be clear here, my mother never did anything half so interesting as this dish of succulent mushrooms married to beautifully strong-tasting bluefish with a mild (and very green) sorrel sauce.

And then came the nerdy part of the ordering.

Being a language geek, how could I not choose something that came with an adjective?

King mackerel with awesome Spanish chorizo succotash proved why the modifier had been required.

Yes, the mackerel was delicious, firm and meaty, but that succotash was to die for.

The mixture of butter beans, corn, grape tomatoes and okra tasted like a summer vegetable stand had exploded in our mouths.

Add chorizo to it and we were practically swooning over the party we were chewing.

Completely stuffed, we could only enjoy the dessert menu in audio form.

But I knew I'd made the right restaurant choice when he started talking about bringing the wife there.

Soon, very soon.

If there's one way to ensure a husband enjoys a night out, it's by providing a completely different experience for him than his wife would.

With this particular husband, that's by eating absolutely everything, being an extrovert and not expecting him to call me by 10:00.

I'm only good at it because I can send him on his way at the end of the night.

Hell, I'm a natural for the role of occasional wife.