For the Friday and Saturday of Memorial Day I drove up to Brooklyn to hang with L. I arrived not too terribly worse for wear (I had assumed traffic on a Friday evening on Memorial Day Weekend would be a shit show) and soon thereafter L. and I went to
Thistle Hill Tavern for dinner. It's a small space, brimming with tables (not literally, of course) and with a nice cozy warmth to its lighting, decor and walls. Though we were definitely elbow to elbow with the patrons on either side of us, it was a rather convivial atmosphere...helped along, of course, by a nice bottle of Malbec. I was curious about the house made pickled vegetables, available in spicy and not spicy form, so I ordered it. L. ordered a really, really delightful beet salad with little fried curds of blue cheese...mmmmm. I requested the spicy version of the pickled whatnots, but didn't find them all that spicy, which means either I have a high tolerance for spice (I don't), the restaurant/chef has a low tolerance for spice (I don't know), or they brought me the non-spicy ones. Either way, I liked them but I didn't love them.
L. ordered the duck leg confit with warm spinach, Marcona almonds, Medjool dates, Spanish blue cheese and aged sherry vinegar. The bite I had was entirely pleasing, and L. really loved it.
I went with the burger with cheddar cheese and it, too, didn't disappoint. The meat was nice and moist and had a lovely taste to it, and I liked the toasted bun and additional pickle fix. The salt and pepper french fries, I thought, could have been way more peppery.
After dinner we went to a bar. What was it? Ack, I forget. All around the area of Park Slope in which L. lives there are these extremely old school metal animals for children to ride (that sentence, taken out of context, seems like the sort of thing someone who speaks English as a second language would write). L. put in her fifty cents and got the ride of her life.
A hipster couple actually stopped to watch her ride it, and the one guy started to take a photograph, but I said I had proprietary rights to any and all rides L. has, and would not have my rights encroached.
In a move that was simply unwise, we did lemon drops.
I blame L. because it was her idea.
Shooting them down, dainty style.
Then we went to an entirely unnecessary second bar,
Commonwealth. L. put some kick-ass tunes on the jukebox (I really do love Straight to Hell by the Clash) and we did our thing, which is mainly laughing it up and complimenting each other...with a peppering of L. talking to strangers and my looking on with a concerned expression on my face.
We got home quite late and L. was quite sillified, myself a little less so. While I don't feel the need to wile out that hard with any frequency, it was still a really great time.
L. ordered the duck leg confit with warm spinach, Marcona almonds, Medjool dates, Spanish blue cheese and aged sherry vinegar. The bite I had was entirely pleasing, and L. really loved it.
I went with the burger with cheddar cheese and it, too, didn't disappoint. The meat was nice and moist and had a lovely taste to it, and I liked the toasted bun and additional pickle fix. The salt and pepper french fries, I thought, could have been way more peppery.
After dinner we went to a bar. What was it? Ack, I forget. All around the area of Park Slope in which L. lives there are these extremely old school metal animals for children to ride (that sentence, taken out of context, seems like the sort of thing someone who speaks English as a second language would write). L. put in her fifty cents and got the ride of her life.
A hipster couple actually stopped to watch her ride it, and the one guy started to take a photograph, but I said I had proprietary rights to any and all rides L. has, and would not have my rights encroached.
In a move that was simply unwise, we did lemon drops.
I blame L. because it was her idea.
Shooting them down, dainty style.
Then we went to an entirely unnecessary second bar, Commonwealth. L. put some kick-ass tunes on the jukebox (I really do love Straight to Hell by the Clash) and we did our thing, which is mainly laughing it up and complimenting each other...with a peppering of L. talking to strangers and my looking on with a concerned expression on my face.
We got home quite late and L. was quite sillified, myself a little less so. While I don't feel the need to wile out that hard with any frequency, it was still a really great time.
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