Dinner With Tony Bennett and Nobody Else

Dear Husbola and I just returned from a twice yearly trek to downstate Illinois to attend a weekend full of shows and visit a passel of shops. (Where we just came from--they say "passel" instead of  "many")  We thoroughly enjoy traveling three hours south of us--because it feels like a million from home.  All in a nice way.

Last night--after going to two antique shows, and an Amish grocery store--we decided on dinner at an Italian restaurant we have eaten in before.  Last November, Dear Husbola chowed down on eggplant parmesan and I remember a glass of good white wine the size of a small cistern.

Oh boy--what a difference a few months makes.  We should have taken it as a clue that last year the parking lot was jammed when we arrived.  This year--two other cars.  On a Friday night.  In a town where fine dining is most often Denny's.  Hungry and hopeful--we went in anyway.

Two of three dining rooms did not even have lights on.  But we were greeted warmly and given a seat.  Actually our pick of several dozen tables.  The server was pleasant but when I asked to order some wine--we were told that the bar had moved out at the first of the year and with it the liquor license.  OH NO--Italian food without a little wine?  The framed articles about their interesting chef were missing from the walls.   Well--the hot breadsticks were good dipped in olive oil, the lettuce salad limp but serviceable --and the lasagna had good flavor, but I am not remembering any noodles.

But, Tony Bennett was singing hits from the 50s throughout the dining room, we had a car full of antique treasures for resale, I was with my charming Dear Husbola who 95% of the time puts a positive spin on things, and we were planning our attack at the biggest antique show for the next morning.

Methinks next November when we return, there will be a booth at Denny's with our name on it...