November 29, 2015

Today was A’s birthday. We decided to do brunch together, but then I’d need to work. I figured I had about 6 hours of work to do that I could split into 2 hour chunks. Since it’s his birthday, I let him pick. He picked Mickey’s. All I really wanted was a bloody and some bacon. My stomach was still temperamental from Thanksgiving.

We made our way to the curve of the bar near the window, in the sunlight. The server who was resting there got up to make way, helping move aside the kringle that happened to be on the bar. The couple around the bend had brought that in since Mickey’s doesn’t have much by way of breakfast sweets. They suggested we have a piece. I was going to decline until they said it was almond. Almond paste. Not fruit jelly. My favorite. Another patron happened by for a slice and asked where it was from. “Oh, you know, kringle from Racine, I think.” I love you, Wisconsin.

I ordered a bloody with a beer back. A ordered a beer with a bloody back. We poured matching coffees. Then A got the scramble special, something with feta and poblanos in it. Every time I look at that specials board, I think of the Sarah Palin scramble they had in 2009, cheetos, flank steak, gouda, and cheddar. And I think of my old best friend who used to join me for beer and bloodies. I ordered white toast, bacon, and one egg scrambled. Like old times.

The couple who brought the kringle was familiar. I remember thinking when they’ve been at the bar in the past that I wouldn’t mind being their age (older than me) and having a bar like this to walk to and have brunch in the morning, a regular. I recalled that the woman was talking about playing bingo. I wanted to interject that time, but didn’t. This time I’m with A. He knows everyone. It’s not like we’re dining alone at the bar. We’re with them, and the bartender for that matter, and I don’t mind.

I learned that the bartender happened to have been at my apartment the prior Tuesday. He complimented our bar, our things, and the company that night. I also learned that his favorite word is “coagulate.” I jokingly said mine was “moist.”

A gets a birthday shot. Bartender picked Tullamore Dew for him. I declined a shot but asked about a bottle from Letherbee. I recognized the label, but not the liquor. Besk. I asked about it and the woman from the couple by our side described it to me, ginny, anisy, bitter. She was drinking it on the rocks. I decide, “He’ll do a shot of whiskey and I’ll have a shot of the Besk. On the rocks.” Bartender asks if I just want a full drink. “Sure.”

We finish our food and drinks and go home and I attempt to recreate the Besk by mixing absinthe and Detroit City Distillery Elvethea. Not the same, but damn good.

Three hours later I wake from my nap.

I ask A if he ended up with any birthday plans or dinner plans. Nope. Just heading back to Mickey’s late-night for birthday drinks. My little keyfob breathalyzer says I’m .06 so I figure I need some food and that my 6 hours of work probably won’t happen. I work a little while A chooses a place for me to treat him to dinner. Red Sushi it is.

We don’t get a seat at the sushi bar. We could have, but my seat would have been right next to a huge guy. Like a giant. We got a two-top and I let A have the bench seat with the view of the huge man and the sushi bar. A table of geeks was to my left, on the side of my good ear, but still too far away for me to hear. On my right was a man with two women. I hear him ask the server to describe Chartreuse to him. She described it as an anise flavor. I wouldn’t describe it that way at all.

Throughout the meal, we overheard bits and pieces from the blowhard to my right. He was talking at the women. No questions. Just a lot of “And the thing is…” We established, through A’s good ear, that he was an instructor and the women were grad students. And he was peacocking.

A kept relaying more snippets from the three-top to me. It was killing me that my good ear was poised away to the point that I turned my head, pretending to look over my shoulder at the bar, but really I was trying to listen. The blowhard caught my eye a few times and I eventually gave up the farce.

I stopped A from over-ordering, backing off on a third roll. We skipped the oyster special because they were beausoleils and I think of those as beginner oysters. Kind of like ordering cod because you don’t like the taste of fish. We ordered a set of the toro spoon specials, the sashimi dinner, the pork dumplings, and two enormous rolls. Maybe we’d have room for dessert. Birthday cake. We didn’t.

We ate leisurely though, fitting as much as possible in our bellies. Geek table to my left overturned and split into another two-top. A couple. Pretty adorable. Younger. They were holding hands across the table, ordering very conscientiously, assuredly, but quietly. They were in their own perfect world.