Random Rim Jobs

[Continued from "Liz and Michael (Part 1)."]

There were a total of eight courses, all delicious.  Over the course of the meal we talked to Liz and Michael a bit.  They had been to a few other such events.  Liz said the previous month’s meal included locally foraged artichokes that were apparently mostly choke.  Liz seemed very displeased with that meal, and said she only booked the current one because artichokes were not on the menu.

Liz was still not in a very good mood when what could be called the main course arrived:  roasted bone marrow with some greens and toast.  She didn’t seem too into the bone marrow.  Neither did most of the people at our end of the table.  I scooped up that marrow, spread it on toast, and gobbled up all it’s yummy richness.  The Viking tried it, but I ended up eating most of his marrow after I got more toast to spread it on.

Michael and I, though, were really digging the marrow.  It’s so gooey and good and wrong.  Michael asked me where I was from that I was so into marrow.  I’m from the place where all things pleasurable are good, and that marrow was quite pleasurable to eat.  He was from some place with a strong bar-be-queue tradition that valued not only the meat, but also the bones.

I realized that Isis would love the bones, even after the marrow was gone.  I asked for a box so I could take some bones home to my dog.  I was given a huge box and then all the bones from the people at our end of the table.  I was shocked to see that many of the bones were still full of their marrow.  The guy sitting next to me was too afraid to eat the marrow.  Meat on the outside of bones was ok, but not the meat inside bones?  Whatever, more for me and Isis.  When we got home Isis got the first of many bones she’ll get as a result of that dinner.

I used the bathroom, the walls of which were covered with record albums.  The vinyl had even been bent to fit snugly in the corners.  When I returned to our table I told the Viking that he had to take a look, that the bathroom was similar to, but not quite on par with the disco bathroom at Triptych.

When the Viking was in the bathroom I sat quietly.  It was between courses so I didn’t have much to do; I didn’t bother bringing my phone.  The group of six was engaged in conversation, as were Liz and Michael.  I couldn’t help but hear Liz and Michael.  They were having a political conversation, of sorts.  Liz seemed to be incredulous that Michael purported to be a Republican.  I heard “Sara Palin.”  I looked for the Viking … he sure was taking a long time in the bathroom.  Finally, as I saw him walking toward his seat I heard Liz say to Michael, “We have nothing in common.”

Some people revel in discomfort and awkwardness.  I do not.  Sometimes I wish I did.  It might have been fun to pretend I was completely clueless about her anger, his fuck up, the fact that they were not having a good time, and ask a barrage of questions that would have worsened the situation.  For them.  I would have been having a great time.  I would have asked how they met.  I would have asked when they’re getting married.  What about kids?  Any number of nosy questions that would have made it even more obvious to her that they needed to break up, and badly.

Instead, I chose to focus on the food and the wine and the Viking.  He and I were having a lovely time.  The food was really delicious.  The wine was doing its job.  There was music playing and candles along the tables.  It was all rather romantic – to the Viking and me, not Liz and Michael.

Especially not Liz, who during the later part of the meal had tears streaming down her face.  I, however, didn’t notice the tears.  I was trying really, really hard to not let the fact that Liz was having a shitty time harsh my mellow.  The Viking noticed the tears and noticed Liz using Michael’s napkin to dab them.  I figure she didn’t use her own napkin to make sure he knew she was crying, and to give him a bit of a guilt trip.

We had our last course, a trio of sorbets, and almost immediately Liz and Michael stood to leave.  Michael put on his jacket.  The Viking noticed a Google logo on the jacket and just couldn’t help but ask Michael if he worked for Google.  He did.  Then the Viking had to know what department.  Then Michael had to know what the Viking did when he worked for Google.  All while Liz just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

And get the fuck out of there she did.  She walked toward the door and Michael gave the Viking one of those, “Eh, what can you do?” looks before following behind.  I promised the Viking that Michael was most definitely not getting laid that night – at least not by Liz.

The the box of marrow-filled bones in hand the Viking and I walked home.  Our night was certainly better than either Liz’s or Michael’s.

I swear.  True story.

We went to forageSF‘s dinner.  The Viking and I both love to eat and we love new, interesting food things.  We both subscribe to Tasting Table, which is a daily email newsletter with a food focus.  I think I had heard about forageSF through Tasting Table.  Either way, I had also subscribed to forageSF’s newsletter and had been getting regular updates on their monthly dinners, their Wild Food Walks, and other information about utilizing foraged food from all over the Bay Area.

I had received information about a dinner that consisted of several courses of mostly foraged local food.  The Viking was interested and booked us a couple of spots.  The deal with the dinner was that we’d find out the location just before the dinner.  I’m pretty sure the “dinner clubs,” of which there are plenty in San Francisco, are illegal.  There are all sorts of regulations regarding serving food in San Francisco, most of which involve a professional kitchen.  So a meal for which money is accepted served in anything but a restaurant kitchen is “illegal.”  Nonetheless, they continue.  Thankfully.

The Viking was informed of the location of the meal, which was conveniently within walking distance from our place.  Our dinner was at Chicken John‘s place on Cesar Chavez, though we didn’t learn that until later.

We arrived on time, 6pm.  The Viking and I are usually on time, sometimes to our detriment.  We have, in the past, had to wait outside a restaurant until it opened.  On the night of the forageSF dinner we arrived on time.  That meant we had our choice of seats at one of the two long communal tables.  We chose two seats at the end of one of the tables.

We brought two bottles of wine and had them opened right away.  We sat and chatted whilst sipping wine as the other guests streamed in.  A woman who sat near us was worried that she’d been stood up by her entire party, five other people.  Another woman had brought not only wine but also her own corkscrew; she seemed to know the deal.

Everything about the event had to do with found items.  The tables were decorated with dried foliage placed in repurposed glass bottles.  Water was provided in glass milk bottles.  Each setting had two mason jars for drinking glasses.  When the food came out, each of the dishes was slightly different, both the vessels on which the food was served as well as the plating.  Both the Viking and I liked that everything wasn’t perfect; it was homier than a formal restaurant.

Eventually all five of the one lady’s friends showed up.  The man in her party who sat next to me immediately introduced himself to me and then the Viking.  The date of the woman with the corkscrew finally showed up, but not until after she stomped out of the building in a huff, presumably to meet him on Cesar Chavez.  The two of them settled into the seats across the table from us.  They introduced themselves to us as Liz and Michael.

I noticed a few things about Liz and Michael right away.  Liz was not happy.  It made sense to me that she was bored and irritated before he showed up, but even after he arrived, she was not happy to see him.  She did not smile – at all.  My guess is that the late thing was a common occurrence in their relationship and she was tired of it.

Michael appeared to be younger and cuter than Liz.  Not quite out of her league, but younger and cuter nonetheless.  He also seemed more at ease than Liz, which was probably due to his laissez-faire attitude about not only being prompt, but other areas of his life.

The chef stood on the stage and told us about the first two courses, an amuse bouche of bay butter on toast, and wild nettle soup.  Both were tasty.  Then there was polenta with heirloom tomatoes, basil, porchini mushrooms, and creme fraiche.  Yum.  Michael made a negative comment about the texture of the polenta, which was perfect and creamy so he was just wrong.

Every couple of courses the chef would get on the stage to talk about what was coming up.  He was so passionate about food, and foraging for it.  He was also pretty cute, with a well-trimmed full beard, and what appeared to be a slim, fit body.  I announced to the Viking that for sure that guy gets laid.  A hot looking guy who is excited about his work?  Yes, please.  That is sexy.

[Continued.]