Monday, March 25, 2013.
RocketFire.
I think I wrote the most ridiculous top-twelve list of my career today. It enumerated the best restaurant fishes that included beans in a supporting but not minor role. The only reason I did it was that I ran into a failed attempt from about five years ago. My restaurant database is much more robust these days, making it easier to research even absurd propositions like this one. Next: Top dozen restaurants with the letter "k" used more than once in their names.
This is what happens when I don't take a walk to clear my mind. But I did today, and most of the week. We are having an unusual chilly spell, despite the beginning of spring last week.
I persuaded the other three members of our foursome to join me for dinner at RocketFire Pizza this evening. I was working on a review of the place, and I made myself hungry. The funny thing was that nobody really wanted pizza, including me. I had the Mediterranean salad in mind. We had a plate of tomato bruschetta (brooss-KET-tah!) that I liked, but nobody else did. Mary Leigh: cheese fries. Each of us had a single slice of pizza. It was well-made as usual in the coal-fired oven. But the pizza baker needs to sweep the burned crumbs from the crusts out of the oven more often.
It's interesting the way that The Boy has filled the place at the table formerly occupied by Jude. Not in our hearts, of course--just at the table.
Now I'm ready to finish the review, which I will in the same newsletter in which this Dining Diary appears. Sometimes my plans are so orderly that I wonder why my office is such an incredible mess.
