Kimo and I went out for dinner last night, which, as you might imagine, is very un-Peasant-like behavior. (After all, we should be at home slaughtering sheep in our kitchen and roasting peppers in our backyard.) Or maybe our dinner out was more of a Peasants-set-loose kind of a deal, since Kimo, Mali Zub and I have all been sick for the past three weeks. (Poor Mali Zub's still trying to get over a sinus infection. If you've ever seen a baby with a sinus infection, it's a sad sad thing.)
Anyway, we decided to try Radda, a new restaurant that replaced our beloved Masa Grill, whose yummy Mexican breakfasts carried me through my pregnancy. Zut alors, what a change! From funky down-home to upscale chi-chi (which probably ain't much of a surprise, considering we're in Boulder). A funny mix of families with kids (earlier in the night) to all the dolled-up beautiful people scoping out the latest establishment. Or should I say scoping out the scene.
But the food was good, from a fantastic bruschetta to my spaghetti pomodoro and the tiramisu we shared for dessert. Lots of fresh and colorful and tasty veggies, which we Peasant People (who are now living in the city, removed from our farming days) go crazy over. And I loved that the place was loud (even loud enough to cover a potential Mali Zub-meltdown if we bring him with us next time), unlike Mateo, the other restaurant by this owner (and also unlike that snooty Black Cat where we ate a couple of months back, ugh).
Plus--and this is huge, really--I think I've finally found a restaurant Peasant Woman will like! That's right--we're taking her back to see if Radda passes the Peasant Test.
Which is a tough test, let me tell you. Because our beloved Peasant Woman can be pi-i-cky. And who can blame her? After growing up on the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic, she's got some good food ju-ju, which means that she can spot a mean proscuitto with the best of them. And you do not want to be on the receiving end of Peasant Woman's scorn (which is so legendary in itself that it probably deserves another entry.) Listen up, Radda, you might be making the local scene, but will it mean much if you don't get the Peasant Woman stamp of approval?