By contrast, last night, Brent suggested a second date night. Two dates in one week! We went to Plum in Oakland where the food is perfect. Brent and I eat with differing philosophies (his: I have eaten it before and survived; mine: oooh, I’ve never had that before!) and we were both happy. We shared onion crisps, which are essentially Funyuns made with actual ingredients instead of weird stuff. Brent liked them so much that he had a second dish of them all to himself. Then he had broccoli with grains (don’t remember what kind) and tiny roasted turnips and golden raisins and almonds while I had the best soup ever: spring nettle with smoked potato, rich and fresh at the same time. Next, Brent had rib eye steak (Shocking! Brent eats cow!) with some spiffy crouton things and mushrooms while I had a smoked egg with bulgur, Brussels sprouts, and carmelized shallots.
Dessert deserves its own paragraph. Brent went for the graham cracker cake with buttermilk ice cream and meringue sticks. He ignored the citrus sections on the plate and spurned the lemon curd because it was not super sweet. My dessert was better. They called it chocolate crunch. The crunch came from pieces of chocolate with the texture and thinness of nori attached to a fudgelike brownie bit on pistachio sauce. Even better, it came with caramel rosemary ice cream.
The ambience, despite Brent’s grumble about the hipsters who need their Pabst Blue Ribbon (Brent had Rasputin stout, a beer so dark the foam was tan.), is solid, soothing, and simple. I would like one of their heavy wood tables myself. The pottery dishes have the same clean, rooted feeling and keep the presentations from feeling fussy. The conversation was also pleasant and my date charming.