It was one of THOSE Sundays. “What should we do?” I asked bf. “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” he countered. And so we continued our circular conversation until we came upon the idea of indulging in mid-afternoon craft beers at The Gate in Park Slope.
Truly, if all else fails, an afternoon craft beer is the answer.
-Looks like it’s time to refill-
Bars are weird during the day (unless you’re on a patio). Being in a bar during the daylight hours is like seeing your high school English teacher outside of school. It’s sort of awkward, and you feel a little bad because they look exposed and lonely.
But as the afternoon dwindled to early-evening, patrons began to flood in. Strangely, some were in Victorian-era dresses.
-Looks like it’s time for another refill-
This is where things got a little hazy. I began to think that the beer had impaired my vision because, at my next glance toward the bar, I saw men in skirts lined up for some brews. The camera doesn’t lie, though.
After we had our fill at The Gate, we started our walk to the train, but were sidetracked by a farmer’s market. Everything looked so colorful and vital.
We picked up some broccoli rabe.
And some sweet potato pasta from Flour City. The man at the tent was especially enthusiastic about bagging it up, and gave us specific recipe instructions (even though they came in the package, too). Nevertheless, there is nothing wrong with excitement over food.
By the time we got back to our apartment, the weather was beautiful, so I sat outside and watched the neighborhood kids play.
And then my stomach let out a ferocious growl that seemed to be saying, “Beer is not enough! Let’s get upstairs and tend to that pasta.” Luckily, I had walnuts in my pantry so I was able to follow the recipe (Sweet Potato Pappardelle with Browned Butter and Caramelized Walnuts). In no time, I was eating a (probably too) large bowl of sweet and salty pasta.
Sleep came easy that night.