Food(ie) Critic
Went to dinner last night with a well know food critic, Charles Ferruzza. Everyone in this town knows who he is …. no one knows what he looks like. Including me. I hovered around in the lobby of a restaurant waiting for him to arrive. I paced around like it was a blind date. I was hoping he’d recognize me – because I had no idea what he looked like. I made this mental image in my head … paunchy, balding, bespectacled and wearing an ascot. I figured he’d order things that weren’t on the menu and swill brandy out of a sifter.
Boy, was I wrong.
Charles was pithy, charming and very Italian-y. Full head of hair too. I would have included his picture, but he’s not allowed to have photos of him posted anywhere. If he were ever to be recognized, anarchy would surely ensue.
He invited another friend to go with us, Judith Benson. She’s a life coach and can solve anyone’s problems. Once she figures out what your shortcomings are, she’ll fix you in a jiff. This wasn’t typical dinner conversation, mind you. I had to be on my toes all night with these two. I had to play mental hopscotch. It wasn’t dinner … it was a Mensa meeting. And I loved every minute of it.
The topics were varied and had very few segues. Given that I was with a food critic and life coach, I would have expected no less. In 120 minutes we singlehandedly created world peace … while discussing whirled peas.
Charles wanted to check out a new (and somewhat sub-par) steak house. The server was new and flitted her way through our meal. I figured Charles would rip off her head like a praying mantis. Nope. He was quite congenial and quizzed her about several things. She was none the wiser.
I hope Charles invites me out again. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I made every attempt to use the right fork and sit up straight. I ate my food slowly and listened to the ensuing banter. Plus, it was the perfect first date. I didn’t have to pay. And I wasn’t obligated to put out.
Was there anything bad about the evening? Well, not unless you count the restaurant. (Good pecan pie, though.) The upcoming (and potentially scathing) review is now on deadline. Better luck next time, Steakhouse-To-Be-Named-Later.
