a surprise dinner

What most people would consider a late lunch or early dinner is actually breakfast for my son.  He gets up late, makes some pasta, then says, “I’m meeting Daniel.”  Soon after he’s gone.

I go to Agata, pick up some dinner, come home, and start to fill out the required financial aid forms for Cornell.  It’s pouring out — a good night to be in. 

Around 7:30 my cell rings.  It’s my friend Carol from Westchester.  “Hi.  I’m here with Michael (her husband), Abby and David  (also from Westchester) and we are having dinner not far from you.  You must join us.”  I surprise them (and myself too) and say yes.  I add some color to my cheeks and some length to my lashes.  Give up on my hair.  Throw on a sweater.  And meet them at a restaurant called SIstina.

I see Carol and Abby a couple of times a year, but not their husbands.  It’s probably been close to 20 years since I last saw them.  And, the good news is they haven’t changed.  The husbands look the same, better even than in their youths. 

Our Italian waiter comes over and recites a mile-long list of the evening specials.  We marvel at his ability to remember everything; either that or there’s a teleprompter hiding somewhere. In addition, we are handed multi-page menus.  The list of offerings is overwhelming.

And then we order.  Despite the exhorbitantly long list of options, three of us get the same appetizer (globe artichokes with fava beans, baby lettuce, pecorino cheese and balsamic vinegar) and three of us get the same entrée (roast chicken with sausage and hot cherry peppers).  Maybe that’s why we’ve been friends for over 25 years — our tastes are similar.

Although we have many shared memories, the evening is all about the present.  No remember whens; I like that.  Sometimes the unexpected is better than the planned.  Tonight is a good example.