A rainy, breezy Sunday afternoon. Mom came into the city to meet me for brunch. Wanted a nice, quiet place to enjoy a thoughtful conversation. I selected a small Italian restaurant. Here we were, sit in the ‘secluded’ nook right next to the entrance, in which I could even hear the echo of my voice.
This is the rustic, simple window outlooking to the street.
What did we eat? Oh, that did not matter much. It was just nice to eat out with Mom, without her working at the stove. But if you must know, she had white bean ravioli as an appetizer, guinea hen as entree, and dark entree terrine for dessert. Indeed, a very fulfilling meal.