My Friday night took another major blow this weekend, with the absence of Steak Night™ for the second week running. At least there was the promise of fish & chips eaten out of the house last week. This time we settled for plain ordinary roasted vegetable pasta in a pesto sauce on the sofa. Pesto FROM A JAR. If my Friday’s continue to decline in this unruly manner, I will be re-branding Steak Night™ as Baked Bean Friday™ by the end of the month.
Fortunately, this was not to be the theme for the entire weekend and things were starting to look up again come Saturday morning.
First up on the agenda was a fifth birthday party to go to. The kids got to jump around a lot and eat cake, while pink fizz was passed around for the grown-ups to wash down a magnificent selection of cheeses, meats, olives and crisps on offer. How very civilised!
Auntie BB arrived on Saturday afternoon for a babysitting sleepover so that the Greek God(zilla) and I could go out with friends to a local Greek restaurant that evening, The Vineyard. This is a lovely family owned taverna that serves traditional Cypriot cuisine, is very well priced, and has a friendly atmosphere. When we arrived, the Greek God(zilla) wasted no time at all in greeting all of the staff in Greek, in order to let them know that he was ‘one of them’ and therefore guaranteeing us impeccable service for the evening.
He was most disappointed when our waitress for the evening asked him to repeat our drinks order in English because, coming from Romania, she did not understand one word of his Greek.
Oh how we laughed…
More laughs followed as more wine flowed, and while it was not a particularly late night, I knew I would still pay the price in the morning for having had that last one for the road.
Oh how I did…
A nice brisk walk to clear the cobwebs was in order, so we escorted Spiderman on a lap around Dulwich Park.
Well, BB and I did. The Greek God(zilla) felt his Man-Flu might be resurfacing, so took the precautionary measure of going back to bed for a few hours instead.
Oh yes he did…
He did however, manage to pop a pork belly in the oven for us to enjoy when we returned home, which almost made up for the disappointment of Friday Night Pasta.
Sadly, the same can not be said for the cake I popped into the oven once he had taken the pork out, which tasted of chocolate with a hint of crackling.
Proving that food really can maketh or breaketh a weekend.