Settling on a 7-Year Plan at Sette

If I needed an antidote to having recently seen True Grit, I got it tonight at the Westhampton seeing Another Year.

As a fan of director Mike Leigh's films, I knew to expect an ensemble of strong actors playing ordinary people, with loads of dialog and no pat happy endings.

Because the film is about a long-time happily married couple and the dysfunctional friends that are attracted to their stability, it was easy to see it first as a contrast between those lucky enough to find their soul mates and thrive together and those who don't.

But Leigh's films are so beautifully paced, unfolding in a decidedly un-cinematic way, that instead of focusing on the relationship haves and have nots, I found myself instead just enjoying the rarity of watching a long-time couple (frequently drinking wine and making pithy observations to each other) who still truly appreciate each other.

And I'm not totally unfamiliar with the concept anyway.

My parents are still more than happy with each other and I know two couples who continue to be poster children for long-term successful relationships.

Still, despite the overall darkness of the film, watching two people interact so intimately and satisfyingly made for a most affirming movie experience and one far more to my taste than a Western (even one with great language) ever could.

I had popcorn and Milk Duds at the movie because the box office guy gave me a free small popcorn voucher and a $2 candy voucher and I fell prey to both

"You want butter on that?" Duh. "You know 80% of people get their popcorn buttered?" Why eat it otherwise?.

Despite that, I went straight from the theater to Sette for dinner. The place was full of people on a Monday night.

Approaching the bar, the two people there immediately fled, causing me to say to the bartender, "I don't always have that effect on people."So you usually attract 'em?" he cracked.

Well, not necessarily, but clearing the room was a little disconcerting. Fortunately, a couple soon arrived and sat down near me, proving that I wasn't still repelling others.

The bartender told me that it was margarita/margherita night, meaning $3 margaritas and $7 margherita pizzas.

 "It's a great deal. Some of the frozen pizzas cost almost that much," he claimed, ever the salesman (and the second of the day to target me).

Deal or not, I could never be sold on a margarita, even given that tequila is the only thing I drink besides wine. Why on earth would anyone mess up fine tequila with anything but a slow-melting ice cube? But of course, margaritas so seldom involve fine tequila.

So I went with montepulciano d'abruzzo, and after enjoying my wine for a while, I let him convince me to try the margherita. Let's face it, if a pizza place can't do a margherita right, what hope is there for more elaborate variations?

I tend to stick to white pizzas, but Sette's fire-roasted tomato sauce was amply covered with Mozzarella and shredded basil, and I found it quite tasty, even more so after the bartender had grated a generous amount of Parmesan over it.

True, my plate looked like a blood bath when I finished due to extraneous tomato sauce, but that's a white pizza-loving girl's prerogative. Some, yes, all, no.

We chatted about his seven-year plan because he intends to leave the country at that point. He was feeling quite superior because his ex-wife just got pregnant with her new husband so her seven-year plan has now morphed into an 18-year plan.

Ouch. Sucks to be her, we agreed.

He asked and I had to admit that I don't have a seven-year plan, although I wouldn't mind it involving being part of a long-time couple-to-be, happily contrasting with all my dysfunctional friends.

And I already know how to drink wine and make pithy observations about others. It'll be just like in a Mike Leigh movie, except without the British accents.

And maybe better teeth.