A few months ago some friends of ours gave us a gift certificate to a fancy shmancy restaurant. When we were trying to conceive, I set it aside and decided that we would use it to celebrate when I [finally] got pregnant (Side note: Why is it that so many women/couples struggling to conceive often put off good things until that magical day comes? Live it up, ladies! You’re already dealing with so much stress, just buy that new purse or go out to dinner. Why make yourself suffer doubly?). But then we found out the happy news the day before Thanksgiving, a.k.a. before eating so gluttonously that we couldn’t imagine going out to another multi-course meal. And then the all-day nausea set in, and I wanted to go out to a lovely dinner about as much as I wanted to stick flaming hot pokers in my eyes. And then it was Christmas and we were crazy and traveling all over the East coast. So as the weeks went by, and I silently held my breath for the 12 week mark, I mentally reserved the gift certificate for that deadline.
Lo and behold, it finally came. 12 weeks, and the dinner I had so been looking forward to! On Saturday night, Benjamin and I got dolled up and headed out for a romantic dinner for two (well, three). This restaurant is a teeny, tiny gem hidden in a very cute part of town not far from our house. The food is based on pure ingredients, locally produced and sourced whenever possible, and prepared with the flair that only a Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef could imagine. It was beautiful food in every sense of the word. We both took advantage of the 6-course tasting menu (I got the vegetarian, Benjamin got the meat-eater’s special… with suckling pig prepared three ways as the main dish!). What an incredible way to taste all of the creative concoctions the talented chefs came up with. We were in foodie heaven.
And, might I add, it was the most romantic date we’ve been on in, well, well over 12 weeks.