Three elegant ladies from three generations of a distinguished (or not) bloodline, out on the town in balmy Los Gatos, Calif., about to partake of a lavish 4-course meal at the fancy-pants Manresa restaurant.
And it was pretty good. After all these years of longing to go there, I waddled out thinking: Pretty good. The soft-cooked egg with sherry-vinegar foam and maple syrup; the Parmesan churros; the succulent veal breast; the black cod; the strawberry parfait with olive oil ice cream (which they RUINED by scattering with clover -- you know, the green leaves you can pluck from your lawn. Playful idea; big mistake.)
Some of it was great, some of it just okay, and it all averaged out to pretty good.
But it was still a magical evening.