Last Saturday my special lady friend and I went out for dinner and a show. I have cagily kept this basic date an enjoyable activity by rarely engaging in it. Most of our par excellence dining experiences are prepared by me, during which time I am frenetic enough to qualify as a show of my own if one has the gastronomic fortitude to endure my performance.
Anyhoo, we went to the Acton Jazz Cafe located in Acton, MA, about 5 miles from our domicile. I am always on the look out for things to do out here in the sticks, because it is something of a booger to get to Cambridge, and something of a rusty razor blade slid slowly across the eyeball to get to Boston.
The food at this joint was faboo! I had a pear, gorgonzola, and walnut salad and grilled chicken on angel hair with a crab cream sauce. My special lady friend had a quiche of some sort. I keep telling her she is denying her monkey ancestors by eating vegetarian, but my persuasive arguments have yet to take effect. The best part was the cocktail I ordered. A perfect manhattan is my standard fare out in the wide world, because it is known but not common and no harder to make than a regular manhattan. A manhattan is bourbon and sweet vermouth, and a perfect manhattan is bourbon and half dry half sweet vermouth. Normally a cherry is the garnish, but my man at the bar served my less-sweet drink with a twist instead of the sweet maraschino. Nicely done!
Our jazz fare for the evening was the Ken Clark organ trio. They were adequate, cranking out some strange r&b covers but hitting their stride with some smokin’ gospel sound on the Hammond organ. But Ken himself had a kind of rock star wannabe thing going on during his solos. His face got all twisted up and his head shook epileptically, and not in a good way. After making several jokes about Ken we decided to skip the second set.
So all in all we had a good time, and I would recommend it to a friend.