I went to dinner last night at Les Zygomates with a few friends and I'm glad I went with people I actually give two whoops about so that we at least had some good things to talk about. Sadly the food was not up to par: the lobster meat in the bisque didn't go well with the bisque itself, the duck confit was incredibly salty (I know it's s'posed to be salty, but this went waaaaay over the line, from deliciously salty to MY GOD WHERE IS THE WATER SOMEONE POUR ME A GLASS OF WATER NOW) and the skin not crispy as it should be, and -- so help me God, if 20-year-old me read what 30-year-old me was writing, he'd pitch a fit -- the creme brulee was too brulee'd and tasted not of nicely burnt sugary stuff, but of heavy carbonization. Think marshmallows you roasted a bit too much over the fire. Or perhaps the marshmallow that you plunged right into the flames, then held the burning thing aloft while running around singing the Olympic anthem, causing your brothers to fall over themselves in laughter and your mother to accuse you of wanting to burn the entire forest down. And then we learned that oh hey, the restaurant has a $30 prix fixe menu normally, so what was the point of-- oh, okay. I should stop complaining. But I spent the same amount at Summer Shack last week, mind you, and had quite a better food experience.
Still, it wasn't without its fun and shenanigans -- Jonathan spilled water all over Sarah, I had a tremendous coughing fit that ended in a snootful of wine, and, as we left, someone fell down the stairs right after mentioning that they'd fallen down twice already this week. But I'm not supposed to say who that was. All in all though we could have easily accomplished this in a less expensive restaurant with better food.