The best seat in the house
Jun. 27th, 2008 11:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI never have fussed much about where in a restaurant I sit. It's nice to have a view, but I'm remarkably unbothered whether that's a view of the river or the dining room or the kitchens.
Last night, m'friends-'n'-hosts took me out for dinner, a kindness they are prone to (mmm, foodie friends), and I had a fine view of the bar. And the, um,boy vision young man behind the bar, who polished glasses and poured drinks and made coffee and smiled a lot.
I confess, I may have adjusted the angle of my chair somewhat, but that was only to allow staff and customers easier passage by. Honest, it was...
*protests too much*
Well, but he was gorgeous. Blond all the way through, and absurdly pretty with it. And apparently entirely happy with being who he was, doing what he was, which is always seductive. I may possibly have allowed my attention to stray a fraction from my hosts.
*is a disgrace*
On the other hand, I was not at all distracted from the food, which was universally good. We did the eat-a-third-and-pass-the-plates-around thing, so we sampled nine dishes in all, and nothing was a disappointment, from the squash-and-kirsch soup to the megrim sole to the soufflé. Everybody was talking about the soufflé. We met various friends from the pub there (I don't even live in Henley, and I too have friends-from-the-pub), and they spoke of the soufflé; we spoke back. At the last, the chef-proprietor came out to chat while we waited for a taxi, and even he spoke about the soufflé. Om-nom-nom, we said, pretty much. Lolcats know all the best words.
Last night, m'friends-'n'-hosts took me out for dinner, a kindness they are prone to (mmm, foodie friends), and I had a fine view of the bar. And the, um,
I confess, I may have adjusted the angle of my chair somewhat, but that was only to allow staff and customers easier passage by. Honest, it was...
*protests too much*
Well, but he was gorgeous. Blond all the way through, and absurdly pretty with it. And apparently entirely happy with being who he was, doing what he was, which is always seductive. I may possibly have allowed my attention to stray a fraction from my hosts.
*is a disgrace*
On the other hand, I was not at all distracted from the food, which was universally good. We did the eat-a-third-and-pass-the-plates-around thing, so we sampled nine dishes in all, and nothing was a disappointment, from the squash-and-kirsch soup to the megrim sole to the soufflé. Everybody was talking about the soufflé. We met various friends from the pub there (I don't even live in Henley, and I too have friends-from-the-pub), and they spoke of the soufflé; we spoke back. At the last, the chef-proprietor came out to chat while we waited for a taxi, and even he spoke about the soufflé. Om-nom-nom, we said, pretty much. Lolcats know all the best words.