In a word:
The specs: #0520? 521? <--fix
Address, hours & details via Isthmus; Madison Originals profile (next: Quivey's) reviews at [delicious, urbanspoon]; official web site. [JM – don’t forget to add these]
JM ate the full slab of slow smoked Kansas City Baby Back Ribs and fries with a lemonade.
Nichole ate the side salad with 2 Appletinis.
The bill was probably too much plus tip.
JM gave a B+; Nichole gave an A-.
We arrived safely and on time at the former Cloud Nine, which was a nice change of pace because usually when we go so far from downtown, JM is incapable of finding places without a GPS or a lengthy search. Not that he'd look something up beforehand or heaven forbid let Nichole drive, which is just as well because HE'S never so much as dented the car.
We had picked a slow night. We were the only people in the upstairs dining room, which still has that romantic (ha! what's that mean?) view of the Capitol. Unlike last time we didn't have the pleasure of dining companions, can't imagine why. Fortunately Nichole had brought a book. Otherwise JM would have had to listen to her prattle on about Lady GaGa.
Once seated, Nichole enjoyed a couple of cocktails. Just because there was a half-price Happy Hour special, she needn’t have had two drinks. She should really get that under control.
Whatever, the drinks made it easier for her to order for JM, who couldn’t be bothered to raise his furrowed face out of a crossword puzzle book long enough to make eye contact with the server, who was nice. And cute.
Upon receiving his food, JM sat patiently and watched his meal get colder and colder while Nichole fussed with the camera. Then she made him wait for a retake because the flash had gone off. When a waiter noticed their weird behavior, Nichole had the nerve to blame JM for not warning her. So much for anonymity.
Not like that matters, what with JM now trying to extort free dessert from every manager that crosses our path. "We're famous bloggers! You want a good grade, right?" Pathetic.
Oh yeah? What about the tantrums and crying jags when we don't get linked to just right? "I just want credit!" It's not like she's some artiste. This blog has jumped the shark, we both know that.
Um. OK. While JM devoured, yet barely paused to taste, his gigantic plate of ribs, replete with attendant slurping sounds and spattered sauce (some of which hit her in the eye), Nichole somehow managed to enjoy her salad. This despite the presence of the grim-visaged companion she’s had to stare at from across the table for over five. hundred. restaurants.
JM found his meal good, but not great, and is sick of having his opinions chopped down and relegated to the end of the post just because he isn't foodie enough for Nichole, because nothing’s ever GOOD ENOUGH for Nichole. Oh no.
On the other hand, JM should consider himself lucky that he even gets to claim a “writing” credit when Nichole does all the WORK. You know, the stuff that actually goes on the internet.
JM has had about enough of this. He didn’t even ever want to go out to eat that much; if Nichole would just cook a meal that he likes, you know, not the weird crap she passes off as being "creative," they wouldn’t have to do this.
[jm – that’s it! you and your lists are driving me crazy. write a conclusion and post. i'm taking the cats and going to my mother's! DON'T call! and don't forget your lunch, it's on the second shelf in the fridge.]