They had food at the Capitol Chophouse, too, but the martini was so goddamn great that I had to get all that gushing out of my system before I could even consider raving about the food.

They started me off with charcuterie, a sort of ploughman’s platter of meats made by the Underground Food Collective. I wish I knew more about artisanal meats so I could properly use all the hip words and phrases that this ploughman’s platter deserved, but all I know is that it tasted soooo good. One of the meats was a very spicy sausage. The other looked like it might have been blood sausage but I’m not sure about that because I’ve never knowingly eaten blood sausage before. And finally, there was also a little pile of shaved beef or maybe ham that was smoked to perfection.

I piled the little slices of meat on the pieces of crusty bread and smeared it with plenty of the deliciously spicy mustard they served with the platter. There was a piece of soggy bread right in the middle that B thinks may have been a square of pate but she wasn’t sure, so I ate it like it was bread, picking it up with my fingers and spreading mustard all over it. Nobody pointed and laughed, so maybe it was okay.

For the main course, I had the lamb. My Darling B had the strip steak. My portion was three or four slices of the tenderest lamb served with a mild sauce. B was served an entire side of beef. I had to help her eat it. She made me. She did. It was fabulous, as good as any steak I’ve ever grilled to perfection on my very own Weber over a genuine charcoal fire.

Dessert was a lemon pound cake but, really, I was still too jazzed about that strip steak to care.