Fine Dining In Halifax

Thanks (Mom, Nancy) to a few gift certificates for various fancy eateries around the city - Terri and I have been eating pretty well this week. In fact, I would say we're burgeoning foodies. Well, not quite, or I hope not anyway (I hate really dislike those guys). Last night for example, I had a thick-ass elk steak at Fid (served absolutely bloody as hell, or "medium" as they call it), which was presented on a bed of pureed squash or somethingerother, along with some Swiss chard I think it was. Terri had the chicken, which was served with some mushrooms and some odd kind of noodles. It was all really tasty, but my coffee and burger-fed guts are suffering under all of this rich food - I'm all weird dreams and unbearable gas lately (and allll class)...

Then there is the issue with the other clientele of some of these places (not to, y'know, generalize) - next to whom I appear (or feel) skinny, ratty, young, crass and destitute. Stereotype 1: big bespectacled men with silver hair and invariably wrapped in casual Hugo or Nautica wear, which is worth more than my most fanciest outfit. Stereotype 2: skinny wrinkled women with dark-rimmed glasses, always with wine in hand. Stereotypes 1 and 2 typically have faint English accents for some reason, and their "a"-sounds are drawn out, like "ahhh" or "ayyy". For real (last night anyway). If not these old-money types, then stereotype 3: the younger, louder business types, with crisp, bright dress shirts, shouting into their cell phones and walking loudly with their thick heavy leather shoes. I saw a lot of these types in Calgary. And then there are little pockets of people like us - stereotype 4 - younger, wide-eyed, obviously out of place in our mall outfits, admiring the sights and the smells and the novelties (palette cleansers make me laugh), ordering the beer and eating with the wrong forks. Don't get me wrong - I do enjoy it, and the food is always awesome, the service is great, and the people watching - spectacular.

Now it is Thursday, our anniversary has passed, and I'm back in my own comfortable orbit, in Dartmouth, nursing my residual weird dreams and unbearable gas.