Before leaving York yesterday I had one of my bright ideas. I suggested to Tal during our morning telephone conversation that we use a gift certificate to a nice local restaurant that I'd been given late in the summer for supper that evening. When I arrived home shortly before 5:00, Tal greeted me in the garage already dressed for dinner. He had even called the establishment to find out when their evening service began.
Too bad the taped message didn't include the fact that dinner isn't served Sunday through Tuesday evenings. So, we arrived in our "finery" only to find the front porch wide and welcoming, but the interior dark and the air devoid of tempting smells.
Back home we went, where -- for no out-of-pocket expense -- we produced a meal of crab cakes, brown rice, tossed salad, hot rolls, wine and, by time for dessert, "home baked" chocolate chip cookies. I have to ask myself why I wanted to go out at all.
Oh, yes. There was the small matter of the state of the kitchen in the meal's aftermath. Now I remember ...