Date night

"Mommy, don't leave me with that babysitter!!"

Tonight was date night. We don't get a babysitter very often, so when we do, it is a special occasion. I was looking forward to it for almost the whole week.  My husband told me that our dinner restaurant was going to be a surprise; I was excited. All I knew was that we had a babysitter for at least three hours and the restaurant was within walking distance.

Noah said that the restaurant was local and recommended by someone that he works with and that lives close by. The mystery made it even more exciting for me. He said it was the type of cuisine he wanted. The type of "cuisine?" Why was he looking for a certain type of cuisine? Oh no. I received a lot of flack about not liking Italian food in one of my blog posts. So, of course we ended up at an Italian restaurant. Noah wanted to prove to me that I do in fact like Italian food. We had to wait about 10 minutes before our table was ready, so we waited outside and I took a look at the German restaurant next door. It looked really good - all sorts of sausages and schnitzel and pretzels. And they severed beer in the liter glasses, just like in the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. I really wanted a beer and a german pretzels, but I was coaxed into the more intimate Italian restaurant where I told myself that I'd be happy with just a lousy caesar salad (which aren't even Italian) while Noah chugged down a pint of heavy cream in some sort of "light cream" sauce.

When we sat down and the waiter droned on for five minutes (really, five minutes) about the specials, I already knew it was going to be calorie-overload and I'd be sick to my stomach before we even left the restaurant. "Madam, we have five specials for tonight. Please bear with me." When the waiter has to ask for my patience, in advance of actually telling me what specials were, I know I'm in for a night of indigestion. "We have two types of risotto tonight...porcini...seafood...crab...ricotta...double wide spinach pasta...wild boar...tenderloin...procuitto...capers...pecorino...seared...cream...osso bucco...cream... calimari...cream...gorgonzola..." After three minutes I was bored and after four minutes, I was no longer hungry. I finally decided on the puttanesca (olive oil-based instead of cream) since the waiter, in his forced-Italian accent, said that it was the best in Seattle and Noah opted for the wild boar special with some sort of reduction sauce.

The German pub that I wanted to go to

Salvatore's 

Waiter being silly behind Noah

The picture the waiter took when we asked him to take our picture. I told him his picture was going to be on the Internet tomorrow.

Opps, meant to take a picture of our food. This is the last of the tiramisu sauce that we were too embarrassed to lick off the plate.

Much to my dismay, the puttanesca was outstanding. It was after all the best in Seattle. Noah's pig dish was pretty good too, but after a good glass of wine ("good" in this case means "big"), pretty much anything will taste good.

We had a nice walk home in the Seattle mist. As much as I complain about the overcast, gloomy weather in Seattle, it is difficult to beat walking to a nice local restaurant with only a fleece jacket on a January night. Salute!