Happy Bloody Valentine's Day

Brugger and I once again devised a satisfying Valentine's Day experience: after work, we hauled ourselves over to GIA: Drink. Eat. Listen, which has long been one of our favorite wine & dine destinations. We don't frequent it as much as some others because the price tag runs a bit on the high side, but they do have half-price wine nights, which we have been known to enjoy on occasion. While they do have some mighty fine wines—and the chef and sommelier collaborate to present some excellent pairings—my favorite drink on the premises is a martini called the Tiny Cat (that's T-I-N-Y, mind you, not T-I-D-Y, as Ms. B. prefers to call it). It's Tiny Cat Vodka, Death’s Door Gin, Lillet Blanc, House Pimento Bitters, and Olives. I shouldn't have this concoction very often because it's so good it would way too easy to overdo it. Way. Too. Easy.

For dinner, we indulged in a couple of excellent small plates—spicy sausage, pepperoni, and yellow pepper schiachiatte for Ms. B. and Chicken Liver-Foie Gras Paté with daikon radish, prosciutto, honey, and toast for the old man. Heavenly from top to bottom, it was.

For afters, we viewed William Castle's original 13 Ghosts (1960), which I was due a viewing, since I will be playing Dr. Zorba in filmmaker Myron Smith's upcoming parody 39 Ghosts. We followed this with 1999's House on Haunted Hill, which didn't impress viewers in its day, but I've always rather enjoyed it. Geoffrey Rush is superb, as is Famke Janssen, and the supporting cast all seem to have a good time. The climax features an impressive otherworldly thingummy, and I like the ending. So I'm gonna stand out from the crowd and give this one overall high marks.

And that is how one celebrates a most romantic Valentine's Day. No shit.