Friday night my husband and I went out to Sotto for a quick dinner. Pizza. Quite yummy. Then we went to Witherspoon Grill at 11 for a nightcap. We sat at the bar. The place was winding down dinnerwise, and the bar wasn't really very crowded. I had Irish coffee with a fillip of green on top of the whipped cream. I couldn't tell if the bartender was supercilious or just amused by us. I ordered dessert, too. I think it was called Toasted Almond Pound Cake. What I got actually looked kind of appealing. A nice wedge of cake with whipped cream, ice cream, and the cake was covered in some kind of sauce. I was puzzled by the cake covering. So, I tasted the ice cream and the whipped cream and a tiny piece of the cake. Also yummy. But as I ate more of it, there was a sort of burny taste in my mouth that I couldn't quite figure out. Anyway, I think what they did was toast the cake under the broiler (hence Toasted in the name), but they over-toasted it so it was slightly burnt. Then they had to cover it with sauce to disguise it. How much of it did I eat? Well, I was totally curious by the burny taste, and so I ate more of it than I should have. It was only much later did I figure out what really happened. Sigh.
Saturday night was spent at the Passage Theater in Trenton watching the six one-act plays written by locals. All the plays were based on a painting. Nice conceit. All very nicely acted. Packed crowd. Will not comment further on this.
Sunday afternoon I took my daughter to Argonautika at the McCarter. EVERYONE had said it was a MUST-see. So, Sunday was the last day. We got seats on the last row of the orchestra, which wasn't as bad as I thought was going to be. The couple next to us said they always ask for the back row for their season ticket subscription. Did I like Argonautika? I was bored....Can you believe it? The must-see and I was tapping my foot. Yes, yes, yes. Very dramatic visually. But, could I have missed it? Oh yes. The couple next to us in the last row left at the half, or as those in the know say: intermission. It's one of those plays where if you asked me to write a good review, I could do it; and if you asked me to write a bad review I could do it.
Dinner followed at On the Border. I ordered chicken tacos, but got beef tacos. Sigh. But, they didn't charge me for it.
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You want a Princeton experience? HERE's a Princeton experience: A Tuesday night train home from the city; the basic stultifying commuter's evening. Normally I would take the Dinky, slogging on to plop down in a seat and exchange the kind of grunts that pass for pleasantries between the basset-faced conductor and us regulars, and then riding in silence the four minutes back to Princeton.
O, but not this night. On this Tuesday night I passed the waiting Dinky with barely a wave and strode down to the parking lot. After a few bracing minutes in the evening air, my chariot arrived: a white Mustang convertible, top down, Sweet Caroline blaring from the speakers and my lovely deliverer behind the wheel. The ride home -- whistling wind and heated seats; music and the throaty rumble of that V-6 -- was a transformative experience.
It is not only where you're going. It's how you get there!
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