Sometimes, I say yes to life. Sometimes, when I’m dicking around at home (on my cellphone) and someone calls, I pick up. Sometimes, it’s my sister, who’s just finished getting massaged with her boyfriend at the spa near my apartment, and I’m being invited to join them for a meal at a bistro also near my apartment. Sometimes I say yes. Sometimes I deign to put on clothes. Sometimes, I go out.

So this was partaken of on Saturday, September 30th and I’m blogging in mid-November, but you will indulge me:

• Lettuce: Lettuce
• Cheese: Thick strands. Not parm.
• Croutons: Extant.
• Dressing: Too much* of it, by the end.
• HELP MY SALAD’S WEARING A WIG: I have been informed that maaaaybe, if I weren’t a big baby who’s afraid of sprouts, and had mixed them in on arrival, instead of scarfing them down ASAP to reestablish a Caesar salad configuration more safe/familiar, maaaaaybe they’d have picked up a lot of the dressing that ended up overwhelming the lettuce. Maaaaaaybe, these sprouts, which I had seen as a foe, or a flourish, were ESSENTIAL to the calculus of this salad. Maaaaaybe exactly the right amount of dressing had been provided*. Maaaaaybe I’d done goofed.

Will I learn the error of my ways? Will I order this salad again? Will I stir the sprouts? What is the true Bistro Tôt ou Tard Caesar experience?

TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO FIND OUT (not actually next time, too much wanderlust, but someday, perhaps I too will return).