Tomato Tart Courtesy Douglas Nesbitt

 
Perched at the Chefs table,
Blues music on SiriusXM, my dinner companion.
Grills smoke with fat, meaty flavor.
Chef folds greens with shaved cheese.
Burgers sizzle, truffle fries bubble and pop in peanut oil,
Pastry chef folds flour and eggs, baking pretzels, tomato tarts.
Sauté station sparks with a frenzy of veggies,
Tuna arrives. Seared lightly, stacked on pressed watermelon, topped with hearts of palm, shaved fennel, habanero oil, swimming in tomato water. Perfect.
Charcuterie, thin and chunky, grilled bread on rustic boards.
Boutique wines and fresh peach Bellini’s served politely by men in distressed denim.
Chef assembles the meat grinder (it was chilled) to make sausage?
Kitchen takes a breather @ 830ish before second seating.
Halibut arrives on a bed of vegetable ragu, glazed baby artichokes. Just enough to sate my never ending hunger for fresh fish.
Crowd gets boisterous,
Lobster tacos crawl off the serving table.
Coffee grinder sputters and steams its workout.
More burgers and tuna.
Dishes dropped in kitchen,
Ouch! Profit down the drain.
Blondie amuse-bouche arrives with check,
TRP back in black.