After cooking and baking like crazy over the holidays, the wife and I honestly could not remember the last time we went out to a nice meal. She decided to take me out to celebrate our successful holiday season of baking for everyone we know and not strangling anyone in our family.
The wife took me to Del Posto, Mario Batali's Italian temple of excess in the meatpacking district. I was so excited about the food that I decided not to have wine. I ordered a cocktail and perused the menu.
The sommelier visited our table twice and seemed puzzled at my decision to skip the wine. Our waiter asked us twice, "Shall I pour some wine for the table?" despite my saying earlier that I wasn't interested in wine. He left the wine list on the table anyway. After our first course, he brought us out two glasses of wine on the house. We thanked him, but I really wasn't in the mood for wine. With dessert, he said, "Ok, you didn't like that wine, but here I have a nice dessert wine for you." He poured us two glasses of dessert wine on the house.
The pasta was incredible and the desserts were some of the best I've ever had, but all of the pressure to drink made me realize how I must have made all of my dates feel in college.
Yeah, "date(s)."
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