Crepeing Around Town
When I got home from work Thursday night, Mrs. Perils met me on the front porch and suggested the very thing I’d been thinking as I was driving - oozing fitfully, rather - across the 520 bridge: “Ya wanna walk somewhere for a bite?” The “walk somewhere” was the easy part, we almost never drive for food or beverages. The hard part is always “where?”
We made our typical non-decision - we chose a general direction and distance to start walking and deferred the choice of the actual venue. In this case, the direction and distance was Fremont - southwest, about 2 miles one way. We actually had two places in mind - a Mexican place called El Camino, and a place featuring crepes called Le Bouchee. As we passed the creperie, we saw that there were tables empty, and steered ourselves in.
It was definitely the right choice. Mrs. Perils had a goat cheese & chicken crepe, and I had a salmon & caper. We don’t usually do dessert, but the special this night was fig and honey creme brulee. We remember discussing it with the waitress, but when it arrived at the table neither of us actually remembered ordering it. So what. It was superb.
OK, here’s an experience I haven’t had in a restaurant before: a couple was sitting at the next table, and the guy had this Wine For Dummies book with him, and was referencing it as he prepared to order. When his wine was delivered, I was dying to see what he’d ordered, but I couldn’t get a good enough bead on the label. Either he was tremendously insecure about his ability to select an amiable wine for a fairly down-scale dinner (crepes?), or he was actually trying to learn. Either he deserves kudos for the effort, or he needs an intervention. God knows I’ve given up the “instruct” part of “instruct and delight” when it comes to wine. I can never remember what I drank. The “delight” part I’ve got down.
The best part of the evening, though, was due to the restaurant’s supplying butcher-paper table coverings and colored pencils at each table. The minute we walked in, Mrs. Perils was skulking among the other tables snapping up colors she wanted. As we dined, she proceeded to spin out this creation:
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I didn’t press too hard about why, out of all of God’s bounty, she chose a Venus’ Flytrap for her subject.
