My excuse this time was a networking event I had been invited to. Those who know me well know how much I love networking (NOT), but I was actually pretty excited about this one. Turned out to be worth the effort, too - spending a couple of hours chatting with young(ish), intelligent, interesting, well-traveled professionals, all of whom are out doing things, was really, really refreshing and inspiring. Made me want to find a few like-minded individuals and try something similar in my own community.
Friday was a full-blown work day for both Katie and me, but we managed to slip in a donut run and a quick jaunt to meet "Deb", a feisty little 59-year-old engineer who padded about in her sock feet, touring us through her luxurious new digs, the trappings of moving still scattered about. She was tired from moving and frazzled from getting ready to leave for Canada the following day, but she stood there in her foyer full of spit and vinegar, and lectured me on the importance of standing up for myself and demanding respect as a female professional in a world dominated by men. I so admire women like her - smart and successful, yet unashamed of flyaway hair, a thick Southern accent, and loving her husband. To be a woman equally at ease with a strong family life and the world as her stage; now that is something to be proud of. (Reminds me of my friend Tori.)
Andrew was in charge of arranging dinner, and he got us dinner reservations at Il Giallo in Sandy Springs. So bear with me, because I am now going to rhapsodize for a bit.
We started with the "giallo asse" salumi and cheese board - I'm not good with all of the various names of charcuterie, but that prosciutto was scrumptious, the white creamy cheese and the fig paste were delectable, and those olives were revelatory. Seriously. (The soft, warm foccacia dipped in a good olive oil didn't hurt matters, either.)
I am a horrible photographer, in large part because I am so self-conscious when I take pictures that I just rush to get it over with. But as you can see here, we ordered spaghetti and meatballs (decent), veal parmesan (Andrew said it was really good, which is high praise coming from Mr. Rocco) and roasted cauliflower - all gave solid performances (although my roasted cauliflower is just as good, if not better, thank you very much). The agnolotti (the little raviolis in the middle) and the tagliatelle were pause-for-a-moment-of-silence wonderful, though. The pasta was fresh-made, literally at a station right in front of the dining room, and it delivered great al dente chew. The agnolotti were filled with roasted duck and fontina, doused in brown butter, and seasoned with sage and crunchy, toasty pecans - bliss in every bite. The tagliatelle was served with braised short rib, and I seriously didn't even want to talk or think while I ate it - I was perfectly happy focusing every sense on soaking up the pure, glorious, beefy flavor of that pasta. I resisted licking the bowl when I was done, but it was hard.
Our dessert of bombolone (ricotta doughnuts) and croissant bread pudding made a decent showing, but was almost anti-climactic after that pasta. I think if I were to summarize, I would say it's well worth a visit - nothing was bad, and a few choices were downright amazing. Oddly, we were probably the youngest table in the place by a long shot; of course, we even found the token Hillary Clinton look-alike.
The pasta station in action.
Saturday, we met up with my good friends Justin and Aletta for lunch and animated conversation (always, always, with those two) at Muss & Turner's in Smyrna. We were less focused on food than on catching up, but my Mo' Rock'n sandwich was solid - shredded chicken with ras el-hanout and cucumber yogurt on a good bun. Cool pickle selection - you can choose between "Old", "New", Green Tomato, and Jalapeno - the "New" one had a nice, green crunch and relatively mild pickliness (how do you even spell that?), which is a good thing, in my book. I would go back - I was actually pleased to find this place, as I haven't been overly impressed with the dining options on that side of town until now.
Whatever; hugs are where it's at! But I took this in honor of my more personal-space-preferring family members...
After lunch, we all went our separate ways - after a stop at Rev Coffee Roasters, Kate and I hit the Woodstock outlet malls, and I proceeded to spend a shockingly large amount of money in a shockingly short amount of time. I'm still suffering from buyer's remorse, but it was sure fun while it lasted. We met up with Andrew at Campania in Alpharetta for some solid (solid is my word of the day, if you can't tell) pizza and beard analysis, among other things, and then wrapped up the evening with a couple of episodes of The Great British Baking Show. (This is the best reality TV show ever - everybody is super polite and normal, their accents are adorable, and it's all about baking, for Pete's sake. What's not to love?)
I headed out relatively early, Sunday, but there was time for breakfast at Collet French Pastry in Alpharetta, and as far as I'm concerned, from now on, there will always be time for breakfast at Collet French Pastry in Alpharetta. You know those moments a person gets, where you think, "yep, this is how I want to live"? Yes, this. I would be perfectly happy to sit every morning at a round marble table next to a sunny window, sipping on hot coffee topped with a thick layer of crema and enjoying custard-filled brioche, almond croissants, and perfectly executed quiche accompanied by the loveliest, delicate salad, little more than a garnish, dressed just exactly how salads are supposed to be dressed, but never are. And Collet, herself? A beautiful, slender, chic Corsican, who makes herself a big glass of vegetable juice every day, and then eats croissants but never gets fat because she's so active, and hey, paradisiacal croissants are just no big deal when you're around them all day.
I really need to figure out how to go live in France for a year. Put that on my list of resolutions.
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