lunch

Had lunch at S-pal in Watertown with last night's duo and D. Almost lived up to it's NPR sandwich hype, though the owner who came over to ask J why she returned the redlentil soup seemed more self-righteous than visionary, insisting the lentils were bleached when they cooked and any actually red red lentil concoction J might be remembering must've been artificially colored. "We don't use any artificial ingredients" he said -- but how would the addition of a little tomato, or beet juice compromise a dish's naturalness? But in any case it was a jolly outing, starting iwth the rather spooky drive through foggy Belmont. Nice though slightly wary young waiter, who J. later figured to be Palestinian, brought us 3 falafel sandwichers and J.'s dish of fool along with the not-quite-red soup. Probably the tastiest falafal I've ever had. Much more sensuous though was seeing J.'s face lit up with a glow of satisfaction, like someone taking a bite of something delicious, as she started questioning the waiter in Arabic abut the dessert choices. I never frankly have enjoyed listening to Arabic, but I enjoy listening to her. Maybe it's the sensuality in her attitude towards the language. I'd like to have the impressions of a native speaker and trained linguist on this. A strong cup of Arabic coffee to end the meal, a nice half-nap at my desk, and I don't know when I've felt more relaxed while at work. She's a funny mixture J., with her appetites for Arabic velars and Arabic sweets like halvah, and the organization of her accountancy-trained mind, enjoying the Inferno in part because of its orderliness.