Three Dozen

Today is my birthday.

Looking back, the past year held various cooking victories: the ice cream follies of the summer (basil/lemon, chocolate/zinfandel, strawberry/balsamic, Guiness, sake/cucumber sorbet)…a few good looking loaves of ciabatta, and one really ugly but tasty boule … the perfect Stephanie pizza (pesto, prosciutto, arugula, and egg cracked on top) … a five layer cake that looked exactly like a giant Crabby Patty … oh there must be more.

There have been some failures as well, like Thanksgiving dinner. I never told you about that? Huh.

But tonight nobody has to cook, and everybody has been asking where I want to spend my birthday dinner.

There are so many great options. I’d love a quiet evening at Restaurant Alma, so simply elegant. And if I hadn’t had sushi on Friday, I would be parked at BaGu Sushi, my new raw fish favorite. We could jazz it up and go to The Oceanaire, because three dozen oysters for three dozen years would seem quite appropriate to me. If it were just me, I’d snag a seat at the 112 Eatery bar and selfishly order for three.

But it’s not just me. It is the six-pack that comprises my family and it is a Monday and it is freakin’ cold outside (as it always is). So it may not be fancy, or cutting edge, but we are heading to the LT tonight, where a worthy and luscious double California cheeseburger will grace my little paper plate. Topped off with softy fries and 1919 Rootbeer from the tap, this soul satisfying meal will happily kick-off the next 364.


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