The weather here today is almost as confused as the stock market. I swear I saw snow falling earlier, but that was from the 40th floor; perhaps it morphed to rain by the time it hit street level. Or maybe the glare from the raging sunlight confused me. Or possibly my brain frosted over in the cold wind and I imagined it all.
Ben and I dipped into Cognac last night, a relatively new French restaurant nearby, for mussels and frites (for me) and a pork thing (for him). The chef steamed the shellfish in a wine butter cream sauce ~ let me say that again ~ wine butter cream sauce. Which I then used as a succulent fry-dipping condiment before I slurped the last of it from a snifter (not really on the snifter part) (but I would definitely order the aperitif, were it offered as a cocktail). God, I love the French. Ben, meanwhile, enjoyed his pork. It looked pork-y. He ate it all, so I guess it was good (but it didn't have any wine butter cream sauce slathered over it, so I think he totally got ripped off).
We agreed, Cognac is better than the other French place we frequent, but it is more expensive and the other will service our every culinary whim 24/7. You can't deny the draw of duck crepe and a cheese plate at 3am.
Other than the restaurant recommendation, all I have for you is one heel, turned.
Wildly exciting, I know.
Sorry about the blister; the other foot is in worse shape and I'm smack out of band-aids. The most annoying thing about the change of seasons? Breaking in the other shoes.