Last night I went out for a lavish dinner for my brother-in-law’s 40th birthday (Happy Birthday Rob!). I’d been looking forward to the experience for months, but not because of what I might eat. In actuality, it was all about Rob’s birthday, a night off from parenting and what I was going to wear, in no particular order. We don’t get babysitters too often, and when we do, we always go to the movies. So when I know months ahead of time that we are going out on a Saturday night to a hip neighborhood in Cleveland (yes, we do have those) you can bet I’m going to look forward to it.
But last night surpassed my expectations by 100 miles.
The restaurant, Dante, brainchild of chef and musician Dante Boccuzzi, was chosen by my brother-in-law Rob and his wife Kathy (biggest carnivore I know, hands down) as apparently this is the spot that you can find them on many a Saturday night. I thought about doing the “call-ahead” move and letting the kitchen know that a Vegan (not that I even qualify, but it’s easier than explaining the whole Nutritarian thing over the phone) was coming, but I didn’t want to be a bother. Something inside my head was saying, “Leave it alone, if you tell them that a Vegan is coming they will probably put pig fat in your food just to spite you.”
I even glanced at the menu before we left, but I must have been extremely distracted because I didn’t take note of what was on there. I think I had made up my mind that I was going to beg the waitstaff for a huge salad (“Really, more lettuce, please. Yes, a giant bowl, as big as you’ve got, please”).