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On Saturday, not two hours after returning the rental car that took us on our cottage excursion, we were off to Enoteca Sociale for dinner with some old university friends. Since there were eight of us we sat in their private room downstairs amongst the wine, and were served an amazing meal in the family style: several common plates shared among us. Using their menu and my fuzzy memory I think I can piece together roughly what we ate that night:

We had to out of there by 9, so we walked a few blocks down the street to Midfield for some more wine. We just let Chris pick out a couple of bottles for us; I remember the Sigalas Assyrtiko; I don’t remember which Portuguese red he brought though.

Finally we retired back to a friend’s place, where we proceeded to drink his wine and beer and gin while sitting on his roof, admiring the view. We also admired his red Alexander McQueen pants with black splotches and his giant egg-shaped crotch mahogany whisky display case. And lest anyone think I’m making either one of those things up, here be proof: 



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