Rosemary or wheat?

Bread, that is. It’s definitely a better choice than trick or treat. After the first two or three hundred people on the front porch, supplies were running low and we were hungry. So it was off to Jeffrey’s, which had seating for those without reservations. This poor guy was trotting around with a basket of hot dough products and a set of tongs. Everybody was stumped by the question. We selected some of each and weren’t sorry, but dinnertime is not the time to be presented with choices like that when there are plenty of other ones. Oysters and yucca chips are still there on the menu as first courses and so are duck-filled spring rolls. Along with the duck dainties came assorted shreds of mysterious vegetal objects that were lightly bathed in one of those delicious citrusy dressings found in Japanese restaurants. I ordered the ahi tuna and was pleased to be asked what degree of doneness I preferred. There’s nothing more unpleasant than to be unexpectedly presented with some portion of a water creature that shows few conventional signs of having been cooked, especially for those not inclined to the sushi side of life. The only main course that I tasted besides mine was the shrimp and duck plate, duck only, along with a bit of sauce. The person who ordered it thought that the shrimp was somewhat beside the point. The duck was beautiful and anyone would have been happy to eat a lot of it, but the person who ordered it wasn’t feeling all that generous. Soon after we sat down, we were each presented with a tiny wam pie-like object filled with brie and topped with house-smoked salmon. There were the salmonites and the brie aficionados and divisions were equably performed. Chocolate intemperance is better than ever, if that’s possible. The dessert dissenter at the table ordered a creme caramel, very beautiful to look upon, which arrived with a shot glass of strong root beer and cocktail straws to permit sharing of the beverage. Coffee and expresso were served accompanied by house-made dark-chocolate truffles. The lighting was bright enough for reading the menu, not always the case, and part of the dining pleasure comes from the handsome table settings, including the dishes and, in particular, the beautiful and heavy stainless-steel flatware, with the knives that stand up on edge and the weighty little demitasse spoons. The main-dish portions were hearty, not skimpy. The music was true jazz, played softly enough to enable the lively conversations to proceed without difficulty. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, but I did notice some Coltrane and some Miles Davis. Jeffrey’s is no bargain, but I’ve never felt cheated, either, because ingredients are excellent and prepared with care, with some dishes found nowhere else in town. Upon returning home, we were surprised to see that hundreds of people were still roaming from door to door. Our doorbell doesn’t work and we kept to the yard out back, but it was very late in the evening before the hubbub died down. Was that something about the delay in trading dayolight savings time for standard time?

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