It's been a busy and bustling season over here. I hope you all had a lovely holiday.
Yesterday, the husband and I popped into a little shop + eatery downtown - The London Plane, it was called. It was one of those places that immediately finds you giddy, the kind of giddy that has you speechlessly tugging at the sleeve of the husband's pea coat, as if to say, Yes! Let's stay here a while.
The walls were lined with white shelves stacked with cookbooks, pottery vases in teals and yellows, dainty pieces of handmade jewelry, neatly and crisply folded linens - a larder of things I was already adding to next year's Christmas list. Small tea candles lined the bar, which could be noticed only after admiring the giant mirror hanging against the wall just beyond, on which the menu of daily eats and wines was printed in a perfectly squiggly cursive.
And then suddenly we were sitting down to two glasses of red from Cotes du Rhone. And a platter of fresh, creamy mozzarella sprinkled with flaky sea salt and really good olive oil was placed before us. And another with the thinnest slices of prosciutto you could possibly imagine, rolled and tucked just right. And another (!) stacked high with thick, hearty bread - the kind that you can really sink your teeth into in the most deeply satisfying way.
I think we were expecting the hustle and bustle that has surrounded us for weeks. But, it was smack-dab in the afternoon, just past three, and we were the only patrons hungry for such a meal. It was just the place to rest.
Maybe it was the wine or the incredibly inspiring and nourishing atmosphere. Either way, I found myself reflecting on the past year and dreaming, rather feverishly perhaps, of the year to come. As we left, having stayed for a quite a while, tying on our scarves and joking with the bartender about such unexpectedly undivided service, I tucked a few ideas into my back pocket and felt immensely happy.
Cheers to finding the little places that lead us down the roads we want to go. Happy New Year, my friends.