Adventures in the city

On Friday afternoon we arrived in St. Helena, where Nessie is a student at the Culinary Institute of America. It's the nation's best culinary school, really. That night she snuck us through the test kitchen and into the area where the students eat the meals they've been preparing all day. We sat down, and stuttered, "Uhh....Vanessa?" when asked by the security guard if we were part of a class. He went back and talked to the head chef, they glanced over at breaks in their sentences, and they finally gave us the okay. 

Vanessa came out in her chef hat, coat, and checked pants, and handed us a Greek feast on a plate. Spanakopita, hummus, lamb...yummy. The baking and pastry students walked out and handed us canapes and crepes and mousses and ice creams. For a moment I forgot how out of place we looked and I felt like a queen with servants bringing her dessert after dessert. I forgot that the chefs were staring at us like we were wearing top hats and doing jazz hands. I forgot what it was like to eat food from my sorry little kitchen. It was great.

The next night we had dinner at Tomasso's, a little Italian place in North Beach. They have a booth with a plaque above it that says, "Always reserved for family." 

That meal was the calm before the storm. After dinner we headed through the city to Union Square and a Brett Dennen concert. After getting lost on Market Street, literally coming within inches from hitting a man, being honked and yelled at, and feeling so frustrated that little tear babies filled my eyes, we finally made it to the concert. Brett was amazing, and I've never loved someone's dance moves so much. 

The 4 lover ladies next to me were less than amazing, with their grinding and kissing and smoking weed a foot from my face. They also played a game where they tried to guess the words to the songs. I, for one, believe they should not have been allowed in unless they KNEW the words to the songs. Basically, they made me feel like an uptight square...until I looked around and everyone was staring at them like weirdos. Then I felt normal. 

The weekend was great, but there is always something special about home. And husbands who love you. And snuggles.