Thursday, August 16, 2001

In which the pot has news for the kettle…

Ann and I got together at King Louie's tonight, having discovered that our traditional Bi-monthly Bitchery Brunch worked better as a happy hour. After a few glasses of pricey chardonnay and delicious cosmopolitans, we thought it might be a good idea to order some dinner.

I opted for the mixed grill with lamb while Ann had a taste for pasta. She pointed to a selection on the menu, a fine noodle dish with a light sauce. "It says it's prepared with something called 'heirloom tomatoes'," she said. "What on earth are heirloom tomatoes?"

"I don't know," I said, "but I have this picture in my mind of an elderly woman in the kitchen wearing an enormous antique locket. She gently opens it, removes a juicy tomato and presents it to the chef.

"'This tomato has been in my family for generations,' she says, 'and I want you to have it for tonight's pasta.' And, with that, the chef takes it from her. She closes the locket and leaves by the back door, weeping softly."

Ann stared at me silently for a full minute. "I think you drink too much," she said finally.