I went to Lewes for dinner on Sunday. I took a stroll around the very quaint and shiny 'downtown' and looked at the menus of most of the places, all of which were suspiciously similar. In the end I decided to go to
Kindle, partially for their motto 'Eat, Drink, Glow' and partially because all the menus looked very similar and its menu was the last one I looked at. I ordered the
Italian Greyhound, which was finlandia grapefruit vodka, lemoncello, fresh grapefruit juice, splash of prosecco. I liked it very much.
I went with a few appetizers for my meal. Their cheese and salami plate was nicely presented, but not all that special. I think the
charcuterie plate at James has spoiled me (and I've only had it two times).
The gazpacho was delightful.
Ordering a house salad isn't a very adventurous choice and one shouldn't expect anything much of one, even at a chi-chi-ish place. That said, this salad was a step up from iceberg lettuce, and the dressing had some magic to it.
The meal was all good, perhaps if I had gone with an entree or warm dish of some kind I would have been more blown away. I had a lapse when my server first came up to me...when he introduced himself I introduced myself, which really isn't done. Even as I said 'oh yes, and I'm cc' I was embarrassed. Eating alone is a fine thing to do, but it does make me a little paranoid. I realize that people are not paying attention to me, really, but I imagine them imagining how sad and lonely it must be to eat alone. And then I imagine themselves asking why anyone would go out if that was what they were going to do. I always think of the dude from the Cook, the thief, his wife and her lover, or whatever that movie is called. The opening scenes, where the lover is reading a book all by his lonesome. Only trouble came to him. That's why I write instead of reading. Although none of my writing is of any substance. Alas. Enough. I went back to the campgrounds and drank a beer while reading White Teeth and looking at the moon.
I went with a few appetizers for my meal. Their cheese and salami plate was nicely presented, but not all that special. I think the charcuterie plate at James has spoiled me (and I've only had it two times).
The gazpacho was delightful.
Ordering a house salad isn't a very adventurous choice and one shouldn't expect anything much of one, even at a chi-chi-ish place. That said, this salad was a step up from iceberg lettuce, and the dressing had some magic to it.
The meal was all good, perhaps if I had gone with an entree or warm dish of some kind I would have been more blown away. I had a lapse when my server first came up to me...when he introduced himself I introduced myself, which really isn't done. Even as I said 'oh yes, and I'm cc' I was embarrassed. Eating alone is a fine thing to do, but it does make me a little paranoid. I realize that people are not paying attention to me, really, but I imagine them imagining how sad and lonely it must be to eat alone. And then I imagine themselves asking why anyone would go out if that was what they were going to do. I always think of the dude from the Cook, the thief, his wife and her lover, or whatever that movie is called. The opening scenes, where the lover is reading a book all by his lonesome. Only trouble came to him. That's why I write instead of reading. Although none of my writing is of any substance. Alas. Enough. I went back to the campgrounds and drank a beer while reading White Teeth and looking at the moon.
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