Dearest Dave:

Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. As I opened the door of Boston’s Neptune Oyster that summer afternoon & walked out for the last time, tears in my eyes & a knot in the pit of my belly—okay, that was a lobster roll—I ached, how I ached, in a way only time could heal.

Time &

Tums
.

Or so I thought. But here I sit, hundreds of miles away, nearly two years hence, still dreaming of you & all those nights I spent moaning in ecstasy as you ravished me with your wild combinations of meat, fish & dairy products. How can I ever forget your masterful way with pickled beef tongue, fried oysters & gruyère? I cannot.

And yet, you too have moved on. A rambler, a rebel, you hit the road to make it all by your lonesome on the wide-open frontier of Norwalk, Connecticut—as I always knew, deep down, you would.

Thus it is that I languish here, Googling your website far too often for my own damned good, pining for Osetra Sono’s flash-grilled striped marlin with foie gras yogurt, chestnuts & golden raisins.

For lentil stew with both chorizo & smoked salmon (you sly thing!) topped with huitlacoche sour cream.

For red snapper in split pea broth with mussels, pistachios & lardo.

Pining, my God, for curried crab salad with crispy chicken crackles & green garlic cucumbers. As it were a lock of your hair, I have stolen your image file to gaze upon in rapture.

LARGE_SALAD

Until, my soulchef, the day we meet again.

Yours always,

Denveater