Friday night Ashish and I had dinner with my sisters (two of the 4 and one fiancé) at Lake Park Bistro. As I have said, I am leery about the place because I find the service lacking sometimes. More often than not actually. But last time I went it the service was really good. This time is was good, too. Our waiter, who looked like Clark Kent, was attentive and quite chipper. When he mispronounced the wine (the house haut medoc) as “hot medoc” I felt compelled to correct his pronunciation. I know this sounds asshole-y but he was new and if it’s the house red wine he really can’t be walking around mispronouncing it. He was very receptive and thanked me sincerely.
I, however, got mine. The manager Didier then came over and proceeded to speak to me in French. I can’t describe the panic that grips me when I have to speak French. With sweat pouring off my face I had a jaunty little conversation with him (he corrected my French, thank you very much) about really nothing. But I impressed my future brother-in-law so that’s really all that matters.
Patty had some fabulous curried carrot soup, Ashish had a small bird with foam on it. He liked it but that foam looked a little too much like something my dog herked up last week. I had steak.
Our meal was good.
Jay (future BIL) ordered bouillabaisse which is far more French than my speaking it.
