Sydney Smith was right

Last night, I phoned Demeter and learned she's been ill for a few days.  She told me she's decided to stop flying out to Hades for Thanksgiving.  Today, we had freezing drizzle and ice pellets intermittently throughout the day, so that by the evening, I found myself picking my way down a sidewalk covered with what seemed to be tapioca, and every time I stepped into the street for surer footing, cars would zoom toward me, driving me back to the slippery pavement.

So it was just as well we were booked for a "Family Dinner" at Table 40 which, fortunately for us, is at the end of our block.  We've been going to them for about four years now, roughly once a month, so they know us.  The menu is set, and you serve yourself from the platters brought to your table.  Tonight, it was broccoli and leek soup with parmesan popcorn to sprinkle on top of the greenest soup ever, short ribs served with creamy scalloped potatoes and warm cherry tomatoes, salad with greens and cucumbers and crunchy stuff on top, and finally, apple fritters.

I don't think I've ever had apple fritters before.  (The picture above is of beignets, which are close to what we had, except our fritters were brown.)  They're rather like really chewy Tim-Bits with apple in the centre and they were served with cups of chocolate sauce and raspberry coulis for dipping.  Each bite seemed to light up the pleasure centre in my brain.

By the time we were picking our way home in the gathering darkness, I felt better.

They don't call it comfort food for nothing.