Mommy and Daddy go to dinner

One of the unintended advantages of having a six-year delay in starting our family was that Jane and I had many opportunities to discuss, and learn how much we agreed on, our values and theories of parenting.  For example:

• We are not short-order cooks.  After you're out of the baby-food phase, you'll eat what the entire family is having.
• We won't talk "baby talk" to you.  We'll use real words and expect you to learn them and use them, too.
• Mommy and Daddy will have regular "date nights."  This means that you will see, on a weekly basis, tangible evidence that Mommy and Daddy -- not you -- are the centerpiece of this family, and that our relationship is a rock on which you can rely.

This last one is what I want to write about today.  Saturday was Jane's birthday, and we managed to get one of the hardest dinner reservations in town -- a table at Komi in Washington, D.C.  In case you're interested, here's a review of Komi, which ranked as one of the few four-star places in the DC area this past year.  While another of our credos is that our children will be exposed to nice restaurants and learn how to dine like little ladies, it does not follow that they get to go along with us on every restaurant visit.

Komi is amazing.  No menu.  Just twenty-one courses, leisurely paced one after the other.  I probably can't recall every single course, but I'll describe a few of them.  We started with a perfect little rectangle (smaller and thinner than a domino) of raw kampachi, served with a little turbot broth.  Then a similar-sized pice of fluke, which looked similar but was a contrast to the kampachi in flavor and texture.  Then a silver-dollar-sized slice of a huge scallop, served in the scallop shell with a tangy cream (Greek yogurt-based?) on the bottom and a couple of slices of black truffle on top.  At some point later was the chef's one experiment with "molecular gastronomy," a "Caesar salad" which was a warm, but not-quite-crisp ball that looked like a hush puppy, but when bitten into released a warm explosion of flavor -- but for the temperature of the liquid inside, the flavor was unmistakably Romaine lettuce, Parmesan cheese, a bit of anchovy, etc. 

One of the earlier courses deserves special treatment, even by the standards that Komi had already set for itself by the first several courses.  A warm Medjool date, hollowed out and stuffed with Marscapone cheese, and sprinkled with a few grains of sea salt.  I am having trouble finding the words to express just how good this was.   It was sweet and chewy (the date), rich and creamy (the cheese), and salty and crunchy (the sea salt), all at once. 

The main event also deserves a paragraph of its own.  A slow-roasted goat shoulder, topped with sea salt that had been infused with fresh oregano so that the salt itself was green.  Served with homemade and griddled pita bread wedges, and a series of accompaniments -- tsaziki, pickled cabbage, eggplant puree, a habanero sauce, and more of the oregano salt.  Unlike most of the courses that had gone before, this was not a single bite, or a few bites, but a hearty counterpoint to what had gone before.  Not every table got the goat; some got suckling pig.  I'm glad that we got the goat shoulder; the next time we go -- and there will be a next time -- we'll make a request for the suckling pig.

So after three-plus hours at dinner, we headed back home, where we found our big little girl STILL AWAKE, long past her bedtime.  Another good visible reminder for Alex:  We may go have our Mommy-Daddy dinners, but we always come home.