Our friends, Jay and Elle called over yesterday evening. After proudly displaying our new bookshelves - almost peacefully calm in the sitting room and study, total mayhem in Jemimah's room - we headed back into the sitting room for a glass of Chandon and some nibbly bits. Only then we discovered that the small print on the little insignificant label on the bottom of the bubbly bottle read 'cuvee riche' instead of 'brut', and so since none of us are at all fond of sweet wine with yummy bits for pre-dinner, we decided to decamp to the local Italian restaurant where the owners are mutual friends of us all and where Jemimah's good friend, the Princess Tea's mum washes the dishes.
The New Zealand Sauv Blanc there was much more to our liking, and to keep ourselves nice we soaked up the ethanol with a coupla gourmet pizzas. My beloved chose, instead, the super garlicky Fettuccine Marinara - the type that should always be eaten by the whole family, but instead had me complaining of his terrible breath this morning - and we all tucked in. Halfway through we were joined by Dee, the local ambo, grabbing a bowlful of the aforementioned pasta during his break (he lives alone and doesn't need to worry about his breath), who pulled up a chair at the corner and cracked open a softy.
Dee's partner, also wearing full uniform, arrived some time later and pulled a pew up to the opposite corner. Wisely, he ordered another bowlful of the pasta. Dee mightn't be married, but the two boys were working together in the same vehicle. Pity the potential patients, will you?
About this time Jemimah realised that we were there for the duration. She called for support in the form of colouring pencils and drawing paper and started creating masterpieces for the restaurant window.
Dessert appeared, and then strong hot Espresso coffee. The couple at the next table joined us, and the owners turned up the music, poured themselves a caffeine and did likewise.
We were there a long time.
Yep, our life in a small country town is pretty good.
But I wish I'd stopped Beloved having the pasta.
Jeanne, that's lovely. What a great little community you've got there.
ReplyDeletexx
It does sound lovely.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like a rather large country town though, with an Italian joint and ambos! Look up Goovigen and see a nice little Qld country town!
Goovigen sounds like Manangatang, where we used to live before we came here. I liked living there too!! Have you lived in Goovigen then?
ReplyDeleteOoooh, sounds lovely. The Dutch have a word - kiselig (sp?), kind of means cosy, but more speaking of the ambience.
ReplyDeleteKind of like our Sunday evening playing Settler's card game with a nice glass of (cheap) shiraz and a bag of cornchips (aptly named "skoffs"!).
Goovigen (Box trees) is my home town! Though we didn't live in the township. Here's a lttle pic and info http://mummasplace.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-golden-childhood-ii.html
ReplyDeleteNo, no, no - when your beloved orders something garlicky you must do likewise. It's the only way for everyone to remain truly happy.
ReplyDeleteOh...I'm left feeling slightly envious! That sounds like a delightful evening! There just is something special about country towns..and the people that live in them :) Salt of the earth I think! xx
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely night out, sometimes the best times are not planned and just happen! Very envious of a lovely local Italian restaurant....
ReplyDeleteSounds fantastic and very spontanious. We soooo need an Italian restaurant here. xxx
ReplyDeleteeeekkk, can't stand morning breath let alone garlic breath on top of it!!!!If I don't feel like garlic ain't nobody sleeping in my bed gonna have it either!! Your community sounds delightlful.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful evening! Things like that don't happen in my big town near the even bigger city.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm with you on the brut vs. cuvee riche.
Nex time, have some of the pasta, too!