Gratitude for the Latitude, and “LET HER EAT (all of that) CAKE…OR ELSE FACE THE SCARY CONSEQUENCES
Latitude 41 seems to get better each time I dine there lately. Case in point: Last Friday, as part of a very successful attempt to stretch their birthday celebrations into weeklong Bacchanals, two shameless celebrants in our party picked Lat 41 for their last (last, I tell you!) B-day blowout, and everything was terrific .
After enjoying a few of Lat’s inventive cocktails fashioned by Nicolene Schwartz, the place’s reigning libation queen (like the mouth-walloping “Kentucky Margarita” made with bourbon and jalapeno) we tucked into these beauties.
A wildly inspired Chicken and Waffles (I think the latter were courtesy of Taste of Belgium) that was sweet and spicy as expected, but also loaded with an unlikely—but much appreciated, and a combo that counterintuitively worked!—slew of roasty vegetables (left) and excitingly bright sauteed kale (right). We loved this so much I feel compelled to write about it soon (look for it in Alive).
We also buzz-sawed through this delightful arugula salad with beet & goat cheese roulade…
… a rich and witty clam “chowder” fettuccini…
…a lovely—and rare—roasted walu (think sea bass but “steakier”) with Brussels sprouts and a brilliant and jam-like eggplant confit…
…a speaks-for-itself-natural beef tenderloin with a crazy-great vidalia onion gratin…
…and a flavor-bomb hangar steak with roasted cauliflower, pommes puree and chimichurri sauce.
Post redoubtable repast, my wife (she was one of the “it’s my party, I’ll splurge if I want to” non-paying “guests-of-honor”) made this request of our server: “A dessert drink, not too sweet, no nutty liqueurs.” Her wish quickly materialized into a created-on-the-spot fantastic Nicolene special (con mosco!) featuring cardamom-infused cognac, aged rum, (espresso-infused?) maple syrup, and lime. 100% on the mark!
To accompany that heady quaff, there was this rich, dense, buttery and altogether awesome sticky toffee pudding (!!) that the belated birthday girl (with smoldering eyes that might best be described as resembling a ferocious lioness protecting her newborn cubs from encroaching—and poorly informed—weak-ass, would-be predators) barely allowed us near. Sure, we were permitted to sample the brittle and ice cream a bit, but any attempts at more than the tiniest nibble of the cake itself resulted in guttural growls, baring of teeth, and brutal fork-wielding.
Oh, come on…I’m just teasing, it wasn’t actually like that at all. But, that’s my silly way of trying to say Happy Valentine’s Day, honey!
