February 14, 2019. Valentine's Day. AKA Thursday for singles. Lol.
Life is a ride. And some people make it better. And sometimes those same people make it worse, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But then there's food. Lol.
My Valentine's Day plans did not formalize until the last minute. Actually, it was my first time to ask someone to be my Valentine. Kudos to all those out there who go out on a limb, totally worth it if your intended says yes.
We started the night around 9:00 pm. I entertained myself with selfies and music while waiting, as usual. Gratefully, I had enough time to pick the perfect outfit and pack an overnight bag.
Dinner was at the Copacabana, a Brazilian eatery in Astoria, where you pay per pound for the food. To be honest, theirs is some of the best steak and lamb I've ever had, right up there with Keen's and Peter Luger, considering the taste. The char on the outside of the steak is perfectly salty and crunchy, yet maintains the medium rare middle. The lamb is full of flavor, with less of the after-taste that some people find off-putting, even without a mint sauce. There's also different kinds of rice, chicken, pasta, salads, flan, etc. Clean, clear tastes and intentions. Highly recommended if you're in the area.
The night was ours. Period.
Brunch was at Beebe's at the Boro Hotel. Some friends and I had been planning to visit this place for their pizza since summer 2018. I was not disappointed.
The ambience is relaxed, with guests from the hotel, no one rowdy. The far wall is made of glass doors that open onto the patio, making the space seem even bigger and letting in the sunlight. Roses all around. And cute hipster lights. The staff was bare bones but efficient and courteous.
We started with Prosecco and shishito peppers. Shishito peppers are my favorite. These were grilled with the right amount of salt and topped with lemon zest.
For mains, we had the Beebe's burger and the campfire pizza. The burger was a double patty, and the brioche was perfectly fluffy, buttered, and toasted. It reminded me of an upscale Big Mac, juicy and with that sauce, from the days when Big Mac's were a force to be reckoned with. The fries were almost shoestring fries, perfectly crunchy on the outside with that bit of softness on the inside, with just the right amount of salt. The campfire pizza had mushrooms, mozzarella, smoked cheese, and olive oil on a thin crust. The staff brought clean plates back to the kitchen, not a crumb left.
And since we were enjoying each other and going all out, we ordered Americano's with the Nutella bread pudding. I love desserts. They are my passion. And no, I never care how sweet it gets. That's where the Americano with its bitterness comes in to offset the sweetness.
Bittersweet moments stretched to last. Those memorable ones, with words almost spilling out of your mouth, but held back for whatever insane, stupid reason. I used to hate when movie characters didn't say what they felt or meant. And then I became one of them. And I get it. It makes the pang of parting even more acute, the joy in reuniting that much more special.