Apropos o' Nuthin'

We decided to eat out last night after mentioning we just might venture out for Eye-Talian food in one of yesterday's posts.  But we decided to forgo the "best wine in the house" thang, opting instead for a Fat Tire before dinner and a glass of house Merlot with our meal.  We dined at Vines last evening, P-Ville's one and only Italian eatery, and we have posted about Vines before.  We opened up that post with this:

Time was when we dreaded dining alone, which is to say back in the day when (a) we were younger and (b) spent a considerable amount of time on the road in the course of making our way in this world.  There's nothing quite like the "table for one" experience for announcing to the whole frickin' world a certain social inadequacy... most specifically one's inability to find a suitable dining partner... regardless of the circumstances.  We made do back in the day but we didn't like it.  Not at all.  Times change and our attitudes change with them, thank The Deity at Hand.  It doesn't bother me at all to dine alone these days.  One of the better things about reaching "a certain age" is the ability to say "fuck 'em!" whenever circumstances warrant.  So... that said, we ventured out to Vines on the Courthouse Square this past evening.  Alone.

Sigh.  While it's still true that I don't mind the solitary dining experience I sometimes take exception to the stoopid-ass inquiry one gets when entering a restaurant alone, i.e., "Table for One?"  Last evening I replied to my perky inquisitor with my usual, customary and reasonable "Yep.  Just Me."  but the NEXT time this happens I'm going to affect a shocked look, look behind me, and exclaim "Where'd she GO?  She was RIGHT behind me!"  And walk out.  I'll wait a moment or three before going back in, at which time I'll announce "Well so much for THIS marriage."  Or something like that.  Just to see what happens.

Dinner was great.  We had the Blue Plate Special, which was a variation on chicken scallopini with green chiles added to the white wine/cream sauce and prosciutto.  This IS New Mexico, and we have a tendency to add chiles to nearly everything.  The result was quite tasty, even tho the prosciutto contained about six times my weekly salt allowance; we left the greatest part of the prosciutto uneaten as a result. We finished off our meal with a big-ass slice of chocolate cake laced with liqueur (I forgot exactly which liqueur, but that's not important) and strong Italian-style coffee, leaving the restaurant well and truly stuffed to return home and collapse in a food coma.

This is the perfect time to bemoan yet again the passing of the civilized day and age. I'd have dearly loved to linger at table a while last night with a good cigar and a cognac along with my coffee. But we simply cannot do that any longer (for the children!), and more's the pity. Future generations won't even realize what we've lost in this space.  But I know and I am NOT pleased.