A good night always ends with french fries.
To continue my story..
So, we were at the point where we were going to decide which little vindictive strategy we were going to follow. Of course, we chose Number 3 (where we would go to the show, mention dinner, but purposefully not invite him), because it was the most politely rude thing we could do. And just as we were about to hang up the phone so that I could finish cooking - hey! My friend's phone rang! And it was the singer on the other end, all apologetic and crap, saying he'd just gotten in an hour earlier and had gone straight to the bar where he was performing, were we coming to hear him, etcetc.
I mean, we couldn't be mean then. Sigh. Foiled yet again!
I finished what cooking I could, and we headed over to hear him perform, the bar being conveniently located across the street from my apartment.
Across the street and ACROSS MY ENTIRE COMPLEX. I sort of left that part out when I told everyone how close I lived, hee. Did I mention that my complex houses 10,000 people? It's big.
An intrepid member of our party drew a map so that he could figure out how to get back to his car. It's pretty damn good, I have to say.
It only became a problem, for, you see, I decided to make everyone walk back to my apartment post-show. Because when you know your way, it's probably only a 15 minute walk. If you don't, because maybe you've had two drinks and have never walked that far across your complex and you go a sort of roundabout way, it's closer to 30. Oopsies. But I just wanted to make sure that everyone had a good and healthy appetite going.
So for dinner, I served a Tunisian vegetable stew over couscous (and I now know what a rutabaga is), with lamb meatballs optional for those vegetarians. All from Nigella Lawson. I think that in the conversion of her recipes to American standards, the editors get bored and omit things, because sometimes her directions are screwy. But it all magically works out in the end, somehow. And it's all pretty tasty too.
I decided to do some cut + pasting with Photoshop instead of doing work last night. Look at me giving the camera a baleful eye. I actually think I was just mid-blink.
And I swear, I was going to make a honeyed almond and orange cake with figs (not dates, oops, I always get them confused), fitting in line with the Tunisian theme, but by the time we got back to the apartment, I was tired and didn't feel like making a goshdarn cake anymore, even though I'd already prepared the figs. So instead, I served a prepared (gasp!) limoncello cake I had in my pantry, along with the three different types of limoncello I'd made. Tunisia, Italy, they're just across the sea from each other.
Also, a blurry close-up of my cute Italian shot glass. Bought at Restoration Hardware ages ago.Oh, did I not tell you I'd made three types of limoncello over the past couple of months? No? I dunno why I made so much, I guess I was just bored. And I like anything with vodka in it. From left to right in the left picture above, there's lime, lemon, and Meyer lemon. While they all pretty much look the same (I'd expected the lime one to be green, but it disappointingly wasn't), they all taste very different from one another. The Meyer lemon was especially fragrant, since I forgot I was making it and let the peels sit in the vodka for, oh, like almost two months. But, you know, they will all knock you on your ass.
And dinner conversation was great, even if it was peppered with me going, "Oh, who's this we're listening to?" and someone would reply, "These mp3s are off YOUR computer, how do you not know?" Obviously, I just download music for kicks and never listen to it again, silly people. Conversation was great, alcohol was flowing - it was just a good solid dinner party, of which I'm glad, because previously, nobody knew more than two other people at the table.
This midweek party ended, of course, with my friend and I finally getting rid of everyone so that we could go get french fries at 2AM - this time at Canter's, where we decided to get matzo ball soup as well. There is nothing like being drunk and having matzo ball soup. I crave some now, just looking at the picture, and I'm only the teensiest bit hung over this morning.