Goodbye

I believe I have paid my last visit to the Portuguese-themed restaurant in our pleasant little one-hundred-year-old (this year) town. At first, I ordered the pistachio-encrusted chicken, and was told some story about how pistachios were out of season, or recalled, or something. The explanation was not worth pursuing, and I switched my order to rib eye steak.

Three pieces of warm sourdough arrived before the Portuguese leek soup, which I had had before and enjoyed again. We devoured the bread, and later received two refills of three and four more pieces each. I guess that makes the waitress look more attentive and helpful.

The steak was something I wouldn't serve in my own home. . . to the dogs. To reiterate my favorite line from "A Fish Called Wanda," -- "Disappointed!" Accompanying it was a baked potato which is something you can't really ruin, and some fresh green beans slathered in garlic, a combination I don't savor. The highlight of the evening was a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, an alcoholic beverage, one of which I haven't had for several years.

I may just return to my habit of having one beer with my dinner. What the hell.