Last Sunday I had a few plans, and these plans ranged from what I was going to eat to what I was going to see to what I was going to cook. It promised to be a jam packed day of leisurely activity. But a surprise start ended up with Mr. Ass at my house at 10 or 11. See, one of my later activities was going to be going to see his newest show (scroll down a little) but he was already in Philly and in between activities so he did what any sensible person would do...well I assume he called other people and they were busy and then thought Scrabble with me would do pretty well...and that's what we did. I won, but it was close. I am a bit of an impatient Scrabble player and Mr. Ass likes to take his sweet time, and then some. So if we were to play with unlimited pondering on his part I do concede that maybe I wouldn't win. Maybe.
Then Mr. Ass was off to his next thing while I prepared for brunch with A.S. She and I hadn't seen each other in a while. Not since, if I recall correctly, she had her first Village Whiskey Burger. So that had been some time between our faces meeting. The plan, which was carried out, was to meet at Fathom Seafood House, as I had been reading and hearing terrific things about it from all sorts of sources. I got there a little early and ordered a virgin bloody mary. I realize that I really don't need the vodka to enjoy it, so why pay the price? This beverage was nothing to shake a stick at. Nope. Olives? Yes. Pickle too? Uh huh. Cloudy with horseradish and more complex than just a shake of Tabasco? Yes sir. It was delicious.
I couldn't help but order three Kumomotos, just because I love them. And they were good. Though my slurp technique with one led to my inhaling a shallot from the mignonette, which caused me to choke. I had a moment of clarity in which I managed to - as demurely as possible given my choking - deposit the unbitten upon oyster into my hand while I continued to combat the foreign particle half way up my sinus. Too much information I know. I just wanted you to understand my commitment to that oyster.
There were a number of brunch possibilities that appealed to me, but in the end I couldn't get around a sincere interest in the lobster grilled cheese with truffle aioli and green tomatoes. A.S. also felt the sandwich calling her name.
I believe we were both quite pleased. The aioli was on the side and that actually was for the best, as it was potent stuff and a little bit went a long way. The tomatoes were chopped as opposed to sliced, and on the whole I appreciated that approach, though a bit of the usual tang one gets from a green tomato was not in full effect. I quibble, but it was really a satisfying meal.
Afterwards A.S. and I took the Broad Street line and walked just a bit to the gallery. And I, like a jerk, took not a single photograph of the occasion. But I should note that Mr. Ass' newest works are lovely and range from portraiture to, um, fantastical? This is why, among the many other things I am not, I am not an art critic. It was a good show. Mr. Ass has a style but the way he applies it to the subjects he chooses to paint remains fresh. Fresh I tell you. Cheeky even. Well. Maybe not cheeky. I'm going to stop trying.