I wish I could adequately blog about all the delicious meals I had in New York City, but it would be inappropriate for me to attempt to synthesize into paragraph form the culinary experiences I had in that city.
In Ottawa, a meal out usually involves a food court or some place our family has been going to for years and years. I've even been known to eagerly look forward to an East Side Mario's pitstop while window shopping at St-Laurent mall. In my natural habitat, a culinary adventurer I am not.
But drop me in a foreign city and suddenly I turn into a latter-day Ruth Reichl, dropping extravagant sums on embarassingly decadent meals. My inner cheapskate throws caution to the wind as I greedily peruse the offerings of the menu (and the wine list, the more esoteric the better).
Which brings us to Supper, the West Village Italian "enoteca" (er, that's restaurant in American) Katherine so kindly brought me to. It, like most of the other restaurants I ate at in New York, brought me immense joy. Having been to Italy this winter, I now consider myself an expert on Tuscan food and I have to say that the appetizers I had there were comparable to the food prepared by my sister's seventy-some-odd-year-old mother-in-law who has never even set foot outside of Italy.
Now I'm back to treating myself to a six-inch chicken teriyaki sub for lunch on Fridays, but my tastebuds will not likely forget their big city adventure.