my mom and I discovered a new
restaurant, an old institution, in fact,
it was superb
after our having been seated
perfectly in an airy room, with
windows all around looking onto
an adjacent courtyard and the
street, Grant introduced himself
as our waiter, we tendered our
names back, he was about 50,
just my type
he was jaunty, full of good cheer,
and was, despite a rapid fire
delivery, utterly helpful
the bread came, hot, with a saucer
of butter in oil
I’d come back here just for the bread,
my mom said, I never have bread, but
the prognostications were good
my beef carpaccio, clung to my fork
like love, the thinnest slices dipped
in a caper and truffle oil vinaigrette,
with shaved Parmesan and an
asparagus spear proud as a ***mas
nutcracker, and a mustard coulis
like hieroglyphs illuminating the
artful concoction, went down like
honey
I’m going to have dessert, I said, on
the strength of just that appetizer,
she would too, she countered
my mom had the lobster bisque,
which despite her enjoying it she
put aside to make room for her
pesto pasta, she said, and which I
refrained from finishing for her to
leave room for my own main plate
rather than my usual pasta, I went
for the veal piccata, this time, a meat
that brings back Vienna and Austrian
fine dining, that’s what I’m having next
time, my mom said, maybe I will again
too, I thought, though her pasta looked
delicious, the rest of which she took
home in a designer doggie bag they
send you home with, another touch
of class, so she could enjoy it later
for dessert I had crème brûlée, she
had cheesecake, I also had three
limoncellos
by that time I can’t remember if she
had coffee or not, I paid, I however
remember, it was Mother’s Day, and
every penny was entirely worth it
Richibi's Weblog 
How come I haven’t followed you until now? You’re brilliant.
your comment, Kurt, comments such as yours, make me want to reach for the stars – thanks so much, Richard