our time : Maritime Parc

It was the last date night before all hell broke loose. I exaggerate… just a little. But it was the last time we would sit down, peaceful and calm, happy and hungry, before the storm. It was the storm of parent-teacher-student conferences and a frenetic work schedule that seemed limitless.

This was our time.  

We held hands in the hushed restaurant and laughed with the backdrop of crisp contemporary and the winking sky-line.
We spent too much time examining the Maritime Parc menus that we were faintly familiar with, weighing the options as if these were our last choices. To do the prix fixe or not do the prix fixe? To do the wine pairing or not do the wine pairing? We mixed and matched. We indulged.
We oohed and awwhed at the refined array of appetizers like the intensely savory French onion soup mussels, salty with bacon and briny with the sea. Or the decadent lobster gnudi that slid on the tongue like exotic silk and cream seeped with luxury, studded with sweet squash and crisp, bitter Brussels sprout leaves.

We wanted to taste every entrée offered, struggling to imagine each flavor and dish without proof. But we couldn’t. We wouldn’t. We made up our minds and clung to old favorites, specialties that we could not escape, nor did we want to. We plunged our forks deep into lemon scented spiraled strigoli pasta with plentiful seafood gem obstacles.  We reveled in the succulent scallops, using the sides of our forks cute our prizes and shift earthy bright green peas and clear corn to create tiny voluptuous bites.
We chatted and chuckled. We observed soon-to-be-married couples, exploring tasting menus and venue perks, and sipping pretty colored cocktails that danced in the mood lighting. And we devoured dessert, despite our satiety from our lounging dinner.  We noted the sweet, the spice, the cold, the warm.
We relished. We enjoyed. We slowed down and savored all of the morsels and washed down all the delicious memories with bubbling prosecco. We lived this meal.

This was our time.

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