We went Italian the first night, despite my head feeling like a bombed out city—first the wretched travel and then the pepper situation smoldering subcutaneously—but we’d planned to return to this place because we like it and I went with it, I mean, what’re you gonna do? We split the veal tonnato which was delicious and I ordered lemon chicken with mint. On the whole when, during a cooking show, they say to add lemon for brightness, I think, mmm no. Lemon is sour not bright and mint, well, just squirt your toothpaste into it. Maybe it was my pan-fried brain but I ordered this pasta. Yeah, no. Sour, toothpaste-y noodles with some chicken. I ate it but I’ll eat anything. But not anchovies.
Next night we headed out to a French restaurant. I should say that in each instance, the Italian and French we were the only people in the room, I mean there were people there but either outside (It’s freaking freezing here) because well, got to smoke of course, or in another room. For openers we split the boudin, blood sausage on lentils. Both of us tasting it at the same time said Oh My God. So delicious. Both the sausage and the lentils were impressive. I had a duck leg on sauerkraut that was just exquisite.
Continuing on our food tour we went back to a Chinese place we like because of their eggplant among other things. This place is not charming and was a little too crowded although the tables are now pretty far apart. But the food is really great. Surprisingly the tiny Chinese waitress, or possibly waiter, seemed to recognize us after a year! The dumplings are a favorite but they were supposed to be in chili oil for heat (I can always go back for a light beating) but they were so tame I could have served them to a child. (Well, to be honest I’d serve them to a child even if they were super hot. It could be funny. I recall with fondness a hot pepper my little sister ate one summer when she was about 8, the adults got a good laugh out of it, I, too, was amused, she, not so much.) The eggplant though…oh my god, so freaking delicious and luscious. I got duck, we were, after all at Peking Ente . . . Ente is German for duck. It was fine but didn’t compare to the French duck. To be fair it was probably very good but coming one day after the sublime, it was just mittelmäßig.