Who Says Four IT Geeks Do Not Know How To Have Fun?

By jen

It is like the begining of a joke…

What happens when you get four IT geeks together at a high end seafood restaurant?

A Cajun/Mex halfbreed, a German, a Mexican, and a Dominican walk into a fancy seafood joint…

Last night the hubby and I went out to dinner with some friends.  Like most IT people most all of our friends are also in IT and I got no problem with that.  Seriously, we are the only type of people who find each other overly entertaining.  We would of course never admit that, but there is a shared pain we can vent on others who live in the hell that is IT Development.  This was the first time we had gone out to dinner with my co-worker’s husband who works out of town.  We had met him before though at the company Christmas fiasco. Because I refuse to keep typing my “co-worker” and “co-worker’s husband” I am going to refer to them from here on out as R and her husband C.

We managed to only be ten minutes late for our reservation which was pretty cool considering we had to coordinate four kids, counting daughter, and a baby sitter.  We walked in and as I gave the hostess our name and reservation information.  These two gals walked in behind C all silicone, peroxide, mile high stilettos and painted on jeans.  C turns to us and says, “This is where the strippers hang out.  Works for me!”  More likely these were the wives of the fifty bazillion plastic surgeons who have thriving practices in San Antonio’s Stone Oak area.  Billboards abound up here in my neck of the woods for Botox Youth Treatments and my personal favorite that is good for a laugh every time, Vaginal Rejuvenation. These gals might have opted for the latter, who knows, but the former as well as the breast augmentations were pretty apparent.

We were seated immediately and walked over to the nice round booth in a restaurant so dark I thought I would need night vision goggles to make it through the tables in our path.  Luckily the table had that nice spotlighting effect which renders a 2 foot wide beam of light on the white table cloth.  We all began trying to angle our menus to get as much of the barely there glare off the white fabric as possible in the hopes of actually reading the menu.  While I was looking at the food, the hubby was stuck on the never ending wine list which populated the entire inside left cover of the 18 inch tall menu.

Our waiter who introduced himself to The Men and upon shaking my husband’s hand says, “My name is Dave as well, but you can call me Troy.”  I did not even try to make sense of that or the fact his uniform consisted of a white blazer with pockets which looked a cross between Miami Vice and General Hospital.   He asked if we had dined with them before and then took our drink order.  This is when it got interesting.

“I would like a cosmo Dave “Slash” Troy” I said smiling.  “Tell the bartender to make it sweet, please.”

R speaks up and said, “I’ll have an ice tea.”

Dave “Slash” Troy turned back to me and says, “We have a house version of a cosmo called the Wild Fish (I do not remember the rest), it has cranberry, vodka, orange peel, (something else), and a splash of champagne.”

Before I could speak up R raises her hand and says, “Oooh I will have one of those!”

“Make that two Dave “Slash” Troy.”  I said smiling.  R has a thing for champagne and that had peaked her interest away from the wimpy Ice Tea.

My husband is indecisive about the booze course.

“What are you thirsting for, honey?” I asked with a smile like the loving wife that I am.

“I do not know.  Uhmm…”  He was still eying the wine list and I knew what he is thinking.

C looks over and says, “You want to get a bottle of wine?”

Then we went another few minutes back and forth between the two men and Dave “Slash” Troy.  It was never going to end.  Someone needed to intervene and I am pretty much always that person.  “You want Port, don’t you, honey?”

His eyes lit up like a methhead in a sudaphedrine factory, “That would be excellent!”

Dave “Slash” Troy sort of looked puzzled.  “Well that is generally a dessert thing, but we have a few Ports.”

Dessert my ass.  It is 20% alcohol wine that is good any damn time.  To his credit he didn’t balk and in the end he had to be thinking it was a good thing, it is more expensive because it is sold by the glass.  He scurries off and comes back with the little menu with the “special” wines etc.  He pointed to the Taylor Fladgate 10 and said, “If you are going Port, that is the best one we have.”

Hubby was indecisive and C was game for anything at this point.  I said, “Just get it.  You have wanted to try one of the Tawny’s anyway.”

Dave “Slash” Troy says, “I will bring the bottle, if you do not love it we can just charge out the glasses and try something else, because we sell this by the glass only usually.”

“Sold!” I said because I wanted food and this could have gone on forever.

Few minutes later one of the bazillion stealth servers (the kind you only get at high end food joints) came by with bread and asked, “Tap water, bottle spring water, or Pelegrino?”

I said, “If my special cosmo thingie isn’t ready I want coke.  Water is disgusting.”

Again, my uncouthness shocked the help.  Everyone else at the table, you know the ones not raised in the Southeast Texas Marshlands asked for Pelegrino.  Meh, ghey water.

The conversation bounced back and forth between C and hubby about business, development, courseware, and contracting.  Our favorite topics and oh so freakin’ sexy.  Seriously… nothing sexier than a developer, especially one that bathes and has a tan denoting he isn’t a recluse in his apartment where the endtables consist of old Domino’s Pizza boxes stacked high with a pillowcase on top to give it some class.

Finally the foo foo cosmos arrived and I was parched.  One good swig and I was hooked.  Mmmm good vodka is a gift from God.  Dave “Slash” Troy popped the top on the Port and set the two paltry sized glasses before Hubby and C.  Dave “Slash” Troy poured a taste for Hubby and as soon as it washed over his tongue he gave a bit of a shiver and a knowing look which prior to that point in our relationship had been reserved solely for me when I did something dirty/filthy to him.  “Oh that is great.”  C chuckled at him and Dave “Slash” Troy was pleased Hubby was pleased.  He scurried off after pouring for both men with a little added spring in his step.

I decided I needed to taste the Port/New Mistress and had to admit, it was quite smooth and made me warm all over.  The warm all over couldn’t have anything to do with the fact I was dying of thirst when the Wild Fish Cosmo Thingie arrived and downed it like a sorority girl after Rush week ends; not at all to do with that.

I was still trying to get the booze flush from my cheeks when Dave “Slash” Troy arrived to take our order. “Would you like to order some appetizers?”

“Why yes, Dave “Slash” Troy I would like the Wedge of Warm, Melting, Saint Andre Cheese with Toasted Baguette Slices and Sauce Vierge.  Why? Because one of God’s greatest gifts to the world is Triple Cream Saint Andre’s cheese!”

“Indeed it is, ma’am.”  Dave “Slash” Troy said smiling because I had apparently redeemed myself for the Coke instead of water commentary.

“I’ll have the lobster bisque!”  Hubby said trying not to cackle with glee at his glass of port.

R ordered the bisque as well and C ordered the crab cake.

“Are you ready to make your entree order?”  Dave “slash” Troy asked.

“Do you have a special, Dave “Slash” Troy?”  I asked, not slurring a single word or giggling uncontrolably as I am prone to do because I am a cheap drunk.

“I do indeed, ma’am.”  He reminded me of a blonde Kevin Kline with all his facial expressions.  “Panko breaded mahi mahi with a pineapple butter glaze.”

“I will have that!” Hubby pipes up still coveting his new mistress with the golden complexion in his hand.

I ordered the Gulf Snapper Filet with Fresh Jonah Crab Sautéed with Lemon-Chive butter Sauce, why?  Because crab and butter make me want to purrrrr.

C ordered Crab-Stuffed Colossal Shrimp Grilled with Chive Remoulade Sauce

R ordered what I ordered and they got a single side to split, Crab Fried Rice with Mushrooms.

Hubby and I decided to share the side, Truffled Macaroni & Cheese.

If you are keeping score here folks, that would be: Saint Andre Cheese, snapper with crab and butter sauce, and fucking truffles!  That is a fucking trifecta of culinary perfection.  God is great and has given us such rich bounty to make our asses larger and our cholesteral elevated.  God, Bless America!

I noticed Dave “slash” Troy refilling Hubby and C’s glasses before he left to put in our order.  Conversation was lively and relaxed while we sipped/chugged our cosmo thingies and the guys managed to down the second glass of port.  Like magic Dave “slash” Troy would appear before the glasses actually emptied and refill them.  In fact you wouldn’t even really notice him he was so stealthy about it.  I still say Dave “slash” Troy was working in cahoots with the devil/management to pad the bill.

About 20 minutes later he arrived with the appetizer course.  Sweet mother of God… I knew my cheese would be perfection, but honestly I was not prepared.  Also, it was a damn good thing it got there when it did cuz I needed something to soak up the vodka swishing around in my empty tummy and making me feel like I should be talking to strangers at the next table about their food as it arrived.  I refrained, of course, this was not Taco Cabana here folks, even I have some sense of propriety.

My cheese was excellent, orgasmic even.  Hubby’s bisque was good, not as good as Kirby Steakhouse, but it was good.  R had the bisque and enjoyed it.  C gave us all a taste of his crab cake which was astounding and actually better than the one at Kirby’s.  Of course Dave “slash” Troy took that opportunity to pour two more glasses of Port in silence as not to let on to his fiendish scheme.  Dave “slash” Troy caught me looking at him and smiled, the devil always smiles at you, “I spoke with my manager who said he would give you this bottle at $65 instead of the per glass charge which is $130.”

Hubby goes, “Excellent!”  C agreed and I was thinking, I bet he does, considering this bitch probably costs $35 bucks at Don’s and Ben’s. But I didn’t say anything, I am demure after all.  After our appetizer course was cleared I said I needed a cigarette.  R came outside with me and we left the men to their own devices.  Always a bad idea, but I was feeling like living on the edge.

We returned to the table about ten minutes later and slid back into the booth.  “We ordered another bottle, honey.” Hubby says with confidence and a half smile.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” I said rolling my eyes and sliding in.  This apparently was amusing to both men because when Dave “slash” Troy, having planned this no doubt upon seeing me leave, stopped by to refill their glasses realized the bottle was empty and said, Another bottle, gentlemen? C looked at Hubby and said, “Sounds good to me, it is only money!”  Hubby, feeling bold as he sat shotgun on the Port Wagon bound for Hell, says “Ok, but Jen is gonna say something like For Fuck’s sake, man!” I was glad I didn’t disappoint, it was apparently quite amusing to them.

The beauty of eating at a higher end joint is the time you have between courses to relax and visit.  Knowing your food was prepared specifically for you and not off some steam table makes the money spent not so painful.  Mind you, it isn’t about not having the money… I am cheap.  I lived too long paycheck to paycheck or worse to just arbitrarily spend $200 bucks on anything much less food.  But I love food and I love good company so I decided not to even think about it.  For the moment…

R tells me C is boisterous and a loud talker by nature, couple this with Hubby who I believe drinking booze renders deaf.  We were having a rather rousing conversation about the previous evening of R and C where apparently she was ready to go home from a friends with their kid and things got a little delayed.  C works out of state and comes home every few weeks so when he is here it is time to catch up with friends and parties etc.  C says R was giving him the evil eye because he was dropping the f-bomb and cursing too much.  His phrase went something like this, “We get in the car to go home and Mother Teresa over here says, You said X number of curse words!” It was hilarious, they are hilarious together, and well I think we were scaring the White People at the table beside our booth.  Nothing scares white folks like a table full of Latins and a token white boy.  I just kept Hubby distracted because along with being loud he gets a tad bit, how do I say it, uhmmm prone to call people out and shit when he drinks.  Ahhhh the testosterone.  They say booze makes a man either want to fuck or fight… it makes hubby open to both ideas.

Dave “slash” Troy arrived with the new bottle of Port and the sad news it was only a half bottle, much to Hubby’s chagrin, “Dammit, Dave “slash” Troy!  Why type of low rent establishment are you running here?”  I told you he was like that when he drinks.  He immediately got up and tossed his baguette at Dave “slash” Troy and demanded he meet him in the parking lot in ten minutes for a duel to the death!  Ok, it wasn’t quite like that, he just looked all forelorn and shit and almost whined.  That was in some ways far worse.

He got over it though, after Dave “slash” Troy apologized profusely and poured him another glass of that freakin’ yellow whore of his.  Food arrived and brightened his mood.  Everything was superb.  The truffled mac & cheese was outFUCKINGstanding and the fish was cooked to perfection.

If you are keeping track of the timeline we had been there for two hours already, gone through two cosmo thingies, 1.5 bottles of that Port Bitch, and about a million calories.  The left overs were packed up and R says, “I managed to save room for dessert.”

Hubby, who loves his dessert only slightly less than me was again with the kid on Christmas morning look on his face.  Hubby got the apple and something cobbler.  R ordered the cinnamon bread pudding souffle with vanilla bourbon sauce.  “We will split it at the table I am sure it is huge.”  and she held out her hands in a circle the size of a dinner plate.  Dave “slash” Troy says, “Not quite that big but it is this tall…” he held his hand a foot off the table and winked.  The devil always winks.

Well, he wasn’t that far off.  The pudding souffle was about six inches tall and the server poked a hole in the top to crack the soufflelike fluffy topping and pour the bourbon sauce inside.  We all dug in, Hubby abandoning the cobbler after tasting the bread pudding.  The Tawny whore had been traded in for bourbon sauce.  C sat back, not a dessert guy and waited for us ladies to… “Say dessert was better than sex.”

Hubby decided to address this, still under the influence of the Port Wagon and said, “As good as this is, C… doesn’t come close to her…” he pointed at me with his fork, ”... blow jobs!  I am telling you, man.”

Oh for fuck’s sake!  I just sat back and squeezed his thigh under the table which I believe in his state he took for a come on and whispered something in my ear I do not recall because I felt his tongue on my lobe and sort of zoned out.

Anyway…

Check came while Hubby was in the restroom and I decided not to look, just hand Dave “slash” Troy “slash” Satan the credit card and move along.  Well I had to look, duh.  I did some math and by the time hubby returned I said, “You know sweetie, if you hadn’t been such a lush we actually could have gotten out of here for less than $200 dollars!”  Just sayin’...

Seriously though, the food and evening was well worth it, though I have mentioned it no less than twenty times today that his booze bill was actually higher than the food portion.  He did take his medicine and made it all better by buying me some pretty silky thingies in the lingerie department today.

All in all I give Wild Fish Grill 5 stars or whatever it is that says it was better than Kirby’s Steakhouse, my previous favorite meal of the year/century.