It was our anniversary yesterday and I had given Tom the actual day to plan something and taken the Wednesday after for myself (we are going to Briciola, a wine bar, and watching “A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder” at the Walter Kerr Theater).
Then, on Sunday night he said, “Minh and Paul invited us over for Pho on Tuesday.”
He brought it up casually as though it was a passing observation rather than a suggestion, but we both knew it was a suggestion.
“It’s our anniversary,” I said.
“I know what day it is,” Tom said.
Neither of us, however devoted to the idea of “us” we were (I unabashedly place more emphasis on birthdays and special occasions than he does), would ever feel it natural to turn down anything Paul cooks. It is always that good.
“Okay, let’s go.”
|The hostess with the mostest.|
|Tom, hungry for pho, grows despondent.|
|“He’ll have to wait a little longer,” says Chef Paul.|
|The final product, with vibrant garnishes and cat chopsticks.|
|Discussing “Gone Girl.” The guys just didn’t get it.|
|After dinner whiskey and an HBO comedy special.|