Tonight I took my wife to the lovely veggie restaurant* The Gate in Islington for a belated birthday treat.
We went there this time last year and had a great time and tonight was no different. It's a treat to be able to choose anything on the menu instead of just the obligatory macaroni cheese - and while I'm pescetarian so my options are usually fairly open, it's more of a novelty for my full-on vegetarian wife (which is how I refer to her when asked).
If you were to ask me exactly what I had, I'd struggle to recall in much detail, other than to say it all was nice. I'd like to think I'm fairly adventurous with what I eat, so if the ingredients are in my remit, I'm happy to try something new. I had a three-lentil paté to start, which came with a lovely piccalilli and melba toast, while the main was some sort of beetrooty thing (consult their menu for more detail) and the dessert was an Eton Mess that managed to be both vegan, yet still the right side of rich.
I didn't think I'd overstretched myself it at the time, but in retrospect, I feel like I've taken on my own body-weight two-fold. At least I'm still able to enjoy the sound of the man heartily tucking into his crisps on the train home like he's trying to make the most of every crunch. He wants everyone to know just how much he's enjoying himself by somehow managing to amplify each bite so it's louder than the train's engine; his head must be empty to have such great natural acoustics.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: he finished the packet at exactly the same time as my last sentence by pouring the last few morsels of crisp detritus down his big, fat trap; tonight meal seems overrated in comparison. I also wish my a nose was as whistly as his.)
*for lovely veggies.