We braved the order window and the impossibly tall blonde French woman that took our order, agreeing that if it was too much money we would kindly bow out and go for our 2nd choice instead of just staying, like we normally do. No more will I ever sit in a restaurant that does not feel right. But how nice it would be to eat in Fowler Square under a shady tree, be a part of our community. P does it all the time, but I tend to seek out places that no one goes. I deliberately find isolated areas where I can just be by the water, alone.
We settled on baked mac and cheese, a fried chicken sandwich and pork belly with fried egg. The latter the most interesting and rich. The fried chicken was so tender on the inside. It tasted better than it looked and the coleslaw was on point. Still, somehow, after a few bites, the party ended. First of all let me say that we're damn lucky to be eating out at all and I'm grateful for any joy these days, no matter how small. But how does this happen that excitement quickly turns south? Maybe we needed a fresh element but within a few moments I realized, I was feeling ill and P was across from me confessing that he HATED the pork belly.
Here's the funny thing about couples. We sat in front of the truck and both made a big fuss about how great it tasted, clearly for their benefit because you want the local businesses to thrive and feel good about their offerings. How pleasant it should have felt to dine al fresco when actually, I was overheating and started to get a headache. The mac and cheese was so rich with butter that even I could not force myself to eat it all. I ordered the chicken and P got the pork, so we traded half pieces after I saw him eyeing my sandwich.
To be fair, I loved the Pork Belly and the Chicken too. It was just overall not a pleasant experience but in fairness maybe it was just too soon to be outside pretending like the world was normal or the same.
Still, no regrets and I'm very happy that at least we tried it.
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