Last night we had dinner at Spiaggia, the highly acclaimed Italian restaurant and Obama's fav restaurant. We had gone because when we were first looking at the restaurants participating in Chicago's Restaurant Week, Spiaggia was listed. Unfortunately, sometime between then and yesterday night, Spiaggia no longer was a participant, and we ended up spending way more ($200 vs. $70) than we had planned.
Spiaggia's food was awash with the fresh Italian black truffle shavings. Every item we ordered was very well executed and delicious, but the gnocchi completely stole the show. I would have gladly eaten that gnocchi for the first, second, and third course. I was surprised that for how classically romantic, beautiful furnishings that scream lushness, Lake Michigan views, and the most well-executed Italian food I've eaten , I preferred my experience at Le Colonial over that at Spiaggia. Maybe I'm just not cut out for the haute cuisine life after all.
Today, DK left at 6am for a case that he said would "end before midnight if we're lucky." Part and parcel of dating a surgeon is a Faustian bargain to put up with absurd work hours. There will be days like today when we won't see each other awake. He'll slip back into bed at 1am, and I will sleepily kiss him, roll over, and continue snoring. It's easy to intellectually grasp period of several days of this, but harder in reality when everyone's else partners are safely home by 7pm, and I am eating dinner by myself.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment