Anniversary Dinner at Baba

This past week marked our ninth wedding anniversary (nine years on 9/9/09, oddly enough). His parents came down from Maine for the afternoon to watch the kids, and we got some time to ourselves.

The first thing we did was park ourselves on our own couch and watch The Third Man, which we Neflixed, um, about three months ago I think and still hadn't managed to watch. We have seen it before, several times, at the Brattle Theater in Cambridge (I miss that place), and it remains an excellent film. Then we went out for coffee and tea at the local Starbucks and talked about the movie, about writing, and how nice it was to get out for a bit.

After that, we headed down to the library to kill a bit of time before dinner (yes, we are nerdy that way), stopping in at an old-fashioned used book shop, the kind that breathes a slight must, and has shelves that go higher than is practical full of titles it seems quite impossible that anyone should ever want. I browsed the SF section and the cookbooks and didn't really find anything interesting, though if I ever broaden my collection of the latter to include obscure historical titles, I have a good source. Then on to the library, and then to dinner at Baba.

Why Baba? Because D* likes sushi, and it has a big sign outside proclaiming the best in Worcester as of 2008. I don't know if it's the best or not, because it's the only Japanese restaurant we've been to in this town, but it certainly appeared to be acceptable. I am not a big sushi fan, or indeed a fan at all, but they had a few other things on the menu.

The place is tiny, at least the downstairs; they might have had another room up, that wasn't entirely clear, and they sat us at the sushi "bar" even though the room was nearly empty at the time. We had a nice view of the kitchen, also tiny. I was amused to note on the menu Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc--the same stuff we still have a bit of in the fridge--at $10 a glass. (And yes, I do know a bit about how the business works in that regard, but wow.) I got a shiraz instead, which much to my surprise actually worked with my chicken's gingery dipping sauce. The service was fine, no complaints, the prices in line with what we'd expected for a bit of a special night out, and the food was quite good.

They don't have much of a dessert menu, which is only to be expected with Japanese food. When our server listed them off I was so startled by his mention of a fried dough dessert that I forgot the others, and we decided that we had to try it. We received two small rounds of fried dough, forming cups for a creamy mixture with blueberries in it, the whole topped with whipped cream. It was about as un-Japanese a thing as we could imagine, but we ate it happily.

I do regret not asking about the jellyfish salad, but there's always next time.

Valentines Day 2009 - Providence, RI

The day started early--we had to get the place cleaned up before Grandma arrived, and then I took L out to do the grocery shopping. I tend to forget that the one thing you cannot readily do with a four-year-old in tow is hurry. She wanted to see the lobsters, and look at the toys, and dawdle along poking at the dwindling snowbanks on the way home while I tried to cajole her into moving a bit faster, before my arms broke carrying all the groceries.

Grandma had arrived in our absence, bearing new clothes, books, and cookies as per her usual awesome self. We all had some lunch, and then D and I headed out to the highway. It felt incredibly weird to have no one in the back seat as we drove down to RI. Not one single request to listen to the Muppet CD, either. Once in Providence we found a parking garage without too much trouble and went out to take our bearings.

The first stop was Cellar Stories, where I bought a copy of Toujours Provence. From there we made our way to the riverfront park, where we were the only people in evidence.


It was a bright, slightly chilly day. The park is nice, with public art of varying comprehensibility, such as this blue figure in the water.


It also includes the Irish Famine monument, and on the other side the war memorials. I thought that the contrast between the World War I (background) and Korean War (foreground) monuments was quite striking.

We were suitably impressed by the high-water marker from the '38 hurricane, and then continued on our way. We had no real plan for the day, so we spent the next few hours just wandering. Saw the Brown campus and environs, slightly more lively than the downtown had been, visited their museum, poked along streets of old houses where if you squinted just right you might forget what century it was, stopped for a rest and a browse in the Athenaeum, and around 5 started thinking about dinner.

We had a couple of recommendations, but hadn't made any real plans, which given that it was Valentine's Day, might have been considered pretty foolish. We tried one of the two places we had heard of, found they were booked. Tried another one around the corner, which we had spotted in our wandering. Looked at the hostess' red velvet evening dress, looked at our jeans and sneakers, looked at each other and shrugged; the worst they could say was, "We don't serve ruffians," right? As it happened, they were booked solid, too. We headed back down the street, trying to decide whether we should head back toward where we had parked, and heard someone behind us calling.

It was the maitre d' from the second restaurant, following us down the street to let us know that there had been a cancellation just now, and he could seat us. Once we absorbed that he was actually talking to us, we nodded and followed him back to the restaurant, which was Mills Tavern. I can't say I think much of their Web site design, but dinner was wonderful, the service friendly and attentive without being overbearing (our waitress' name was Michelle, I think), and the bill not too excruciating for a special occasion. They did seat us off in a small side room, for which I certainly didn't blame them (and it was nice and warm) given our underdressed state, and we were far from neglected there.

We went the whole nine yards; D had oysters to start, I stuck with a seasonal salad, and then we went on to rack of lamb for him and braised short ribs for me. Mine had these tiny little roasted beets and onions along with it, and the beef was melting. I could have licked the plate. We split a chocolate mousse for dessert, which was good enough that the only words we spoke were the terse communications required to divvy up the liqueur-soaked raspberries. I think I had a Chilean malbec with mine; forget what he was drinking.

In a satiated haze, we walked back to the car and headed north toward Massachusetts. We arrived to find that everyone involved had a wonderful day, though the kids were a trifle wound up and disinclined to go to bed. Grandma stayed the night, and in the morning we all had pancakes before she headed home.

It was a fantastic day.