toby of the day, 12.14.2007

Jon has been reading a book where chefs describe the details of their last meal. He usually reads before bedtime and transitions between fist shaking grumpiness (e.g. Daniel Boulod) and teary-eyed glee (e.g. Helene Darroze). On the one hand, it has meant that I have been reading the same page of the New Yorker for almost a week because each night I’m distracted by a new revelation from the book, but it also means that we’ve been thinking about our own last meals. When I suggested that bresaola might be part of mine, we decided to have a quick dinner of cured meats at A16. As luck would have it, they didn’t have bresaola. But we did get some extra wine from the women at the table next to us. We’re not sure if our neighbors were they were swooning over toby’s adorable smile, or if they were just drunk, but we finished off their carafe of nero d’avelo. Looks like this whole baby thing is really starting to pay off.