Dining Differences

Last night my husband and I took advantage of restaurant week here in Boston. It should be noted that the city is so dense and has so much culture that restaurant week actually spans two weeks, not just one. They do exclude the weekends, capitalist bastards. Oh well. It was quite the feat just putting a plan in place and following through with it as J and I are well known for our dreams of doing stuff, but never actually doing the activity because we're so overwhelmed with options.

For example, last weekend we spent two days talking about going to a beach, or Walden pond, or a National park, or the city, or downtown, or a historic tour, or...well, you get the idea. In the end, we finally made it to Costco and Trader Joes. Yes, folks, that was our final outing.

We've been tracking and counting down restaurant week here as it was one of our most favorite things to do in Indy. There was some serious web browsing and research as to which restaurant we should dedicate our finances and taste buds. In the end, we chose Harvest.

A very interesting phenomena occurs when we are out to dinner. I've noticed this doesn't happen just to us, but it happens to most people. We do not order the exact same item even if it is what we really want. God forbid we should have two orders of duck on the table. Turns out there is a Harvard professor who actually wrote a book on this. I ran across it at the Harvard Coop (kind of like their bookstore). Its all about how we sabotage our own happiness. I know, a really uplifting subject, right?

So here we are in the elegant courtyard of a restaurant in Harvard Square last night at the only available reservation left: 8:30 PM.

J: "So what are you going to get?"
A: "I was thinking of starting with the corn soup with Chantilly mushrooms and crab."
J: "Damn."
A: "You know, you could get the same thing."
J: "What else were you thinking about for your entree?"
A: "The sole with the heirloom tomato and cannelli beans."
J: "Well, I guess I'll get the pork then."
A: "Why not order what you want?"

In the end, we did both end up with the soup and it was delicious. There were some striking differences between restaurant week here vs. in Indy. For one, the crowd was remarkably divergent. Our dining partners were decked out in Topsiders without socks, button downs with V-neck sweaters, long hair with product (guys), long hair without much make-up and product (girls), pre-labor day white trousers, hobo bags, messenger bags, and theoretical discussions. It was about as obnoxious as the wine pairings with each course. Somehow it fit, but seemed pretentious none-the-less. One thing was for certain as we eavesdropped on our dining companions and sipped our Willamette valley pinot noir: we certainly weren't in Kansas (or anywhere near it) anymore.