David Lebovitz, 2014-12-03
I’ve had a lot of visitors
this season and everyone, of course, wanted me to pick a restaurant where to
meet up. It was great to see so many long-lost friends, but since it was two
meals a day for a couple of weeks, my “idea list” began to run dry. And while I
have a bunch of places that I personally want to try, most visitors don’t want
to “try out a new place” (and for some reason, no one wants to go out for
pizza…), so rather than risk a so-so meal, they wanted me to pick something
tried-and-true. Which I suppose is fair enough.
But after a while, I was
tapped out. It got to the point where I had lunch one day at one place,
then returned to their partner restaurant across the street for dinner a few
hours later that same night. And I also learned that there’s only so much
restaurant food you can eat. I used to wonder why food critics complained about
their jobs, having to eat all the time. Yet by the end of my guest stints, I
was starting to wave the white flag of surrender myself.
I did have a little break
and went to a French friend’s home
for lunch one day, and knowing both of us were pretty busy, and eating a little
too much lately, we left the decision to whatever we felt that we’d be in the
mood for that day. Then that day arrived, and neither of us could decide. At
her suggestion, and in deference to our waistlines, and our pocketbooks (or in
my case, my wallet), she invited me over for soup. 
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