I know, I know, mouths drop open when I tell people that.
Haha, well though, all kidding aside, Hubby is Polish. A part of him is anyway. I think it's mostly his laugh, because when he finds something really funny, he laughs with this sort of deep belly ho-ho laugh. That laugh sounds Polish to me.
Anyway, I digress.
Last night Hubby and I finally went to this fabulous little bar in our neighborhood of Northeast Minneapolis that we hadn't tried yet for dinner. It's a place called Nye's, and it's this old, kitschy corner bar that has a live polka band on the weekends (welcome to MN!), attracts a really funny mix of people for drinks and lots of middle-aged Nordeasters for dinner. Our waitress was Roxanne, she served us like we were her grandkids, and it was thoroughly hilarious and great.
Place: Nye's Polonaise Room
Activity: Leisurely dinner and wine while listening to the ol' neighborhood crowd chatter. It was Dave's birthday! *Davetheguyatthenexttable* Happy Birthday Dave! Everyone sang and took pictures. Hubby and I watched and hoped that some day we would be able to sit around a table with our friends and say Happy 50th Birthday to someone we love. Especially each other.
Surprise of the night: The size of our portions when our food arrived. I guess asking for "the small size" gets you nowhere at a Polish dining table. Hubby's polish sausage and saurkraut would have fed 3 people, my prime rib would have fed 12.
|who's up for some music?!|