Sweet story of the day, which is only a little bit about transition.
Spent the morning at the EXCELLENT African American History Museaum here in Washington. So well executed, it's now our new favorite museum in DC. My wife's only complaint: "Why are there so few white people here?" Counting us.. I believe there were three. She speculated that they were all at Air & Space, which is probably true, to which I said "well I bet those people don't live in the "air" or in "space"... so either museum should be informative.
Anyway... after museuming we went to lunch at Rasika, an Indian restaurant. Since we are Indian food neophytes I won't make any claims I can't back up. I'll just say this - before our trip we must have asked 6-8 friends and family who live in the area for an Indian food reccomendation for DC. Each on said virtually the same thing. "There's tons of great Indian places in DC. Go to Rasika."
So we did. (It was also featured on this season's Somebody Feed Phil if that helps you.
Anyway, the food was, to our tasting, spectacular. The Palak Chaat was particular memorable.
So too was the young lady who sat at the table next to us. She must have been our son's age, mid-20's. Dining alone, she had come up to DC to visit her best friend, but the friend was working. And she, the girl, was a huge fan of Indian food and had also heard pepole rave about this place.
She very politely got our attention and asked what we were eating because it looked delicious, and we got int a short pleasant conversation with her. A few minutes later we asked her to take our photo.
Throughout our meal we would just chat on occasion as each course of our tasting menu arrived. We learned she was from Arkansas, and that this was her first-ever trip to DC. And her friend was support to join her for lunch, since it's her birthday, but a work emergency interceded.
So instead they will meet for dinner, and so she still really wanted to try this place, so that's what brought her in. When her dish arrived she said it was the best she'd ever tasted, and she not only eats Indian often, she cooks it. She ate painstakingly slow, so as to savor it. And wondered if she could pack up any leftovers for her friend to try, would they survive a long return trip to her hotel.
Anyway, this all spurred my wife into action. She discussed her idea with me — I thought it was great — and she got up to use the restroom. While on that journey, she sought out our waiter and informed him that it was our neighbor's birthday, and could he please come up with whatever special dessert they do for such an occasion and put it on our tab.
We thought we might make it out of there before it arrived (don't do things like for "thank you.") but it came, and it was a beautiful little plate with several treats... and a candle. And the waiter indicated it was from us. Our neighbor thanked us profusely and started to cry.
Not only was this her birthday, but her first-ever birthday away from her parents... so I think this little act of kindness was very meaningful to her. My wife was in tears well. I was misty.
End of story.
There is a coda, however. On our post-lunch walk back to our hotel, I asked my wife "when the young woman tells this story to her friend tonight, what does she say? "Two really nice old ladies...."
My wife laughed, tugging at her gray hair. "No, she'll probably say this ONE old lady"...
"And her daughter," I added... getting an elbow and a laugh from my wife.
See, I told you it was just a little bit about transition.
Love,
Allie