April 17. It’s Friday night. I had to look at my watch to see the date: I knew it was mid-April and could tell is was Friday because the news said it was meant to rain Thursday – it didn’t and that was yesterday. So, being Friday we decided to have dinner at our favourite rather upmarket Italian restaurant: Ambrosini’s in eastern Adelaide.
Paul Ambrosini has done the amazing feat of producing a take-away menu, updated weekly. I ordered at 3pm and collected at 7: delicious Milanese risotto (fungii, white wine and saffron) for me and Anatra arrosto (roast duck with an orange glaze) for my husband. Desert? of course … a tiramisu to share (traditional Italian dessert of coffee with Strega liqueur, mascarpone cream and zabaglione). Our car smelt delcious all the way home.
I had laid the table carefully, clearing the books, miserable newspapers and debris normally found there: a candle placed in the middle, folded cloth napkins, pre-heated plates and classical music completed the home-coming.
We looked out over the sparkling lights of Adelaide and felt rather lucky in the scale of things. (I forgot to mention the smooth Australian shiraz that added a glow to the meal). But for this nasty little virus, we might have been sailing the tropical seas of Flores, Indonesia, this very night … but the alternative was not too bad.
Tomorrow is another day.