Mandi managed to take the afternoon off to pick me up at O'Hare. My flight landed at 12:49; she'd be coming from work and there would be no children. It was on the way home from the airport.
''Let's go to lunch!'' I suggested.
''I have a place I've wanted to eat at for awhile. The photos are gorgeous.''
In the next five minutes, we had booked a table for two.
We parked on a side street and walked in the chilly Chicago air to the old but glamorous Restoration Hardware building on an exclusive downtown avenue. Up a short flight of stairs, we entered one of the most aesthetically pleasing buildings I'd ever seen. We felt rich; not only in the monetary sense, but rich in the senses. Every detail was orchestrated. Round couches that invited. Lighting that dazzled. Comfort that assured. It was classic--not gaudy or kitschy-- beauty with care and intention designed to endure.
When the hostess seated us next to the fountain, the experience elevated our spirits even higher.
In the words of Lao Tzu, Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it.
The sound of water. Steady sprinkles serenading our lunch.
And light. The room was filled with light from the glass ceiling.
The food. Fried artichoke hearts and yukon gold potatoes. Creamy burrata with roasted red and yellow peppers. A quintessential melted cheese sandwich on sourdough bread, small bites taken with a pickled pepper. Small and savory bites to stretch out the final pleasure to our senses.
Could we dine here everyday? No. Richness in all forms is saturating. Overindulgence is burdensome. Simplicity is life-sustaining.
But once in a while...
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