Right with the World

To paraphrase Frank Kennedy to Scarlett O'Hara, "Oh, you act on me just like a tonic, Miss Pru!" Or maybe that was the Barbados rum.

It had been ages since Pru and I had had a girls' night out, so we got gussied up Saturday night style and did a seven-hour date to reinstate our chops and see what we could get into.

Without even speaking of it, we both showed up locked and loaded and before the night was over, she was being hit on by a 25-year old. Good times.

First up was my house for Pinotage and catching up. When a friend tells you she's going to spend the day puttering, inquiring minds want to know what's involved. I may not putter the way she putters. Let's just say I have a new appreciation for Zulilly and being thought of in crucial moments.

Once the sun had set, we decided on Amour's bar, beginning the next portion of our Saturday night with Mauresques, the owner's favorite summertime drink when in southern France. Pastis and almond syrup made for a refreshing and eminently quaffable libation that could easily spell trouble over the course of a long, hot afternoon.

Fortunately, we had only the night to deal with.

Dinner began with Macon-Villages and a stunning vichyssoise that knocked Pru's Uncle Elmer's out of the running. "It's better he's dead so I don't have to tell Elmer I found better vichyssoise than his," Pru observed. Better for whom? The chilled soup was exquisite.

Pru and I parted ways next because she's not the sweetbreads fan I am - despite an appreciation for the Madeira cream sauce they came in - so I ate my glands while she had escargots, sopping up every last drop of garlicky butter with the accompanying bread.

We used the time to make plans because her beach house rental is fast approaching and we want to ensure that we have the most fun during the time that I'm there, her other guests be damned (or left at the house while we go play). If ever two women could find some trouble at the beach, we'd like to think it'll be us.

Kir Royals and dessert followed. The selection of sorbets included raspberry (with chocolate sea salt caramel creme brulee), melon Pastis, the owner's first attempt at coconut milk (so delicious even non-coconut lover Pru was smacking her lips over it) and the queen of the evening's sorbets, lychee rose petal, which tasted like lychee on the tongue but after swallowing rewarded us with a mouth full of heavenly rosiness. Just gorgeous.

To finish off the night, we had Plantation Rum Barbados, the kind of sipper that tastes like Barbados - a place I had a blast in - on a warm, breezy night, but by the Atlantic Ocean, not the Caribbean.

We'd barely begun sipping when a favorite Carytown chef stopped by to join the party and before long, another chef, his fiancee (Pru and I were invited to their destination wedding in the Yucatan next Spring) and a friend named Karen. All of a sudden, we had a party.

Before long, we were planning a party ourselves (my vote was for a Bollywood dance party) and one of the chefs said all he needed was a pig's head to make the ultimate party foods. This will be a party I could really do some damage at.

By the time we left hours later, Pru was insisting on returning to my pad for mroe wine and conversation and what single, middle-aged woman doesn't want to discuss what she's learned in life and what she still wants in life with a good friend until 2 a.m.?

Especially a friend who tells you she's never met a man who satisfies as many of her needs as I do. Aw, go on.

Honestly, I only threw her out because I knew I had to get up early this morning. I woke up to a message from her: "I swear I had no idea it was that late. Came home, ate some leftover spaghetti. It was fun. You're too funny and wonderful as always. All is right with the world."

Fiddle-dee-dee. That's how you should feel after a good tonic works its magic on you.