A Sumptuous Weekend

Did you know that there are French restaurants in DC open until the wee hours of the morning? I’m not sure there are even French restaurants in France that are open until the wee hours. Lisa, who really is quite the social butterfly, arranged a wee-hour rendez-vous at Bistro Francais in Georgetown, which stays open until 4 am. When we arrived at 2 am, Georgetown was still hopping and the Bistro was not doing badly, either. I’m not sure I can remember most of the conversation that took place over Lisa and Priyanka’s escargots or our lemon tarts and cappuccinos, but I’m sure it was insightful and sophisticated, because it’s hard not to sound sophisticated when you are eating escargot and moules nicoise. It may be hard to look sophisticated if you have never used the escargot implements, however, which involve a tong-like device specifically designed for holding the shell while you use the long, thin, two-pronged fork to extract the unfortunate snail from his abode. There is something so excitingly unorthodox in eating snails and mussels at 3 am. If you ever get a chance to do this, take it.

Earlier in the evening we-a gaggle of us, some of whom had never met and were friends of friends-went to a potluck gathering in honor of a friend’s friend’s friend. By the end of the evening, of course, we were all friends and had almost forgotten the twisted way we had come about knowing each other (friend’s friend’s roommate’s cousin, for instance.) Seema brought a yummy Pakistani dish, which, if she allows, will appear shortly on my food blog. Lisa made a pasta salad that had neither too much oil nor too much garnish. Homemade spanokopita … Russian pancakes with a frothy cinnamon filling … it was really all very exciting. And the company was terribly interesting, too. I love living in DC because it’s such a hub of interesting, motivated people. The amount you can learn from the people you meet at a simple potluck dinner! See picture-aren't we glamourous?

And then, after this decadent Saturday, I spent Sunday at the pool and the movie theater with Martin, whose 35-hour (yes, 35-hour!) shift at the hospital had earned him a day off. Those who see me often had to listen to me all last week talk about how much I wanted to see him and how despondent I was and how he always has to work so much…so you know how happy I was to see him after a week and a half!

A weekend like this makes the workweek worthwhile.