It was a celebration of our life together. We chose Bottega
because that is the restaurant where we dined the night I officially discussed
my intention to marry Anna with her father, Larry Clark. I was wearing the same
suit we bought for the rehearsal dinner my mother threw for us the night before
our wedding. I also had on the shirt my dear friend, Paula Kapiloff, had made just for the
occasion back in 1999.
I guess it’s inevitable when one or both partner is a food
freak that celebrations tend to revolve around food. In fact, I was able to
recite to our waiter at Bottega on Wednesday exactly what I ate at the
restaurant that night in September 1998 with Anna and my future father-in-law.
On this magical night, a fish on the Bottega menu sparked
the memory of our first night in a beachside town in Portugal during a
first-anniversary trip, at a fish restaurant where the chef’s image was
emblazoned on the labels for the house wine. The grilled octopus on Wednesday’s
menu transported us to a back-alley restaurant in a Portuguese town we visited
to see ancient Roman ruins during that same first-anniversary trip.
I’m sure discussion on future anniversaries will turn to our
magical 14th anniversary meal. Fine dining is a leap of faith for
Anna, who does not eat meat. But the kitchen and the entire staff came through
for both of us.
With my first bite of grilled octopus – salty, lemony, smoky
and slightly sweet – I had to briefly shut out the world to concentrate on the swirl
of flavors and textures. First the perfect bite from the octopus, not at all
chewy or tough. Then the rich fat and firm meat from pork belly bites on the
same plate. In the background a fava-bean mash provided the high-pitched beat
of a jazz drummer’s cymbals, a steady platform for the lead instruments.
I’m afraid I threw off the kitchen’s timing because I
lingered over this plate, savoring every bite. To bridge the gap, the kitchen
sent out one of the menu side dishes -- the first-of-the-season Chilton County
peaches, grilled and served with pine nuts. If you have not grilled peaches
before, you owe it to yourself to do so this summer. The hardwood smoke and
caramelized sugars amped the peach flavor up past 11.
We each got a pasta plate – for Anna, specially made ravioli
with a creamy sauce slathered in classic spring vegetables, asparagus and green
peas; for me, lobster spaghetti. One sign of a great kitchen is its ability to
build flavors, intensifying the theme. Claw, knuckle and tail meat got a boost
from lobster broth, nudged further by red chili peppers and garlic and what
tasted like copious amounts of butter. But the spaghetti stood up to all that
boldness.
It was yet another astonishing dish. But what make places
like Highlands Bar and Grill and Bottega Restaurant so special is the service.
It leaves me in awe.
It’s not just the unobtrusive waiter who suddenly appears
when needed, or the never-empty water glasses or the perfectly balanced
cocktails. It’s not the killer peach cobbler adorned with anniversary greetings,
or the glass of Muscat delivered to Anna merely because I had ordered sherry
with dessert. It’s not even Chef Frank Stitt himself coming out from the
kitchen to wish us a happy anniversary and make sure the vegetarian is as
satisfied as the omnivore.
It’s those little touches that make a great dinner unforgettable.
