fun and froth

I'm all about planning ahead.

Knowing that I was going out for a very fancy meal on Saturday night (as in, top restaurant in Denver fancy; as in, leave your napkin on your seat while you go pee and someone slides by, picks it up, and replaces it with a freshly folded napkin that has been slid off a heavy glass plate by a gloved hand fancy), I hopped on my bike around 11 am and proceeded to invite a heart attack with a ride along the South Platte. I only had about 40 minutes to get in a solid aerobic workout, so I spit and puffed my way along the river and then through downtown, encountering some unexpectedly large inclines on the way. By the time I got home, I was ready for a nap.

Instead I made myself a black bean burrito, ate some yogurt and fed the lion within. I felt good, and strong, but knew I'd also pushed the limits of my current (ahem) athleticism with that ride. I can get a little obsessive sometimes, a little overzealous in my attempt to keep the weight I've already lost from creeping back to that scary area called The Inner Thigh.

That night, dinner was, well, an experience. It's not that the food wasn't good, but it wasn't SUPERB. It wasn't $380 worth of superb. BUT. The company was priceless, and since it was a celebratory evening, I was happy to see/hear that their diver scallops atop carmelized roasted cauliflower was divine. S. had a pan seared barramundi accompanied by horseradish potatoes that were, she confided in me later, barely warm. I indulged in some meat (yes yes, I did) the details of which I will not go into here--suffice it to say that my short rib (one of the accompaniments) with a tamarind glaze was the plate's standout. Even my starter, a crazy nouveau American concoction consisting of scallop filled squid ink ravioli with blanched garlic, roasted pepper preserves and chorizo froth was interesting but not awe-inspiring. Admittedly, I am not impressed (as some must be) by this whole froth craze. I liken it to eating the spittle of a mad lobster, or, in this case, chorizo in a straightjacket. Granted, this culinary trick imparts a subtlety that I appreciate, but the effect is still a little like taking the white residue from skimmed black beans (as they're cooking) and using it to flavor a perfectly orchestrated plate of sweetbreads. Square of animal parts, meet salty charcoal foam. Mmmmm.

Frankly, my favorite part of the whole meal was picking the wines. Rarely do I get to savor such a fantastic (and over the top) wine list. We started with a Russian River Zinfandel, Hartford,“Fanucchi-Wood Road” 2002. One of the people in our party didn't like it, but I attribute that to the complexity of the wine itself--not that she didn't possess a sophisticated palate, but the zin was bigger than most, full of itself, and quite tannic. I thought it was a fine accompaniment to my frothy froth froth. We were most pleased, however, with an Italian Valpolicella Classico, Zenato, Ripassa 2003--really a lovely wine, completely different from the zin but not such a departure that our tongues were screaming for mercy. The sommelier was right on with that bottle, even if his icy demeanor left me a tad chilly.

Dessert was good, not fantastic--my friend, who hails from Florida, swore that the key lime tart was made with previously bottled key lime juice, not true key limes (juice and zest). I was warm from the wine and feeling especially pleased with the evening as a whole, so I didn't worry about it. Juice, zest...whatever. Here was the thing: I was with dear friends and the woman I love, and we were all grown up and eating at an acclaimed restaurant in our fair mile high city. We were giddy with the opulence of it all, and we appreciated every minute of it. Every cent spent, every point over my set points on WW, the muscle-numbing bike ride--it was all so well worth it. There was love, and laughter, and the night was ours.

No matter what, I hope to have nights like this again throughout the course of my life. There is nothing like good food and good company and the way the two can come together to create pure, sumptuous magic.

Now it's back to black bean foam on rice cakes. *sigh*

At least I'm smiling.