Fada

There is a restaurant one block from my new place. It's called Fada. It's French. Very French. The steak au poivre with fries I had on Sunday night with R. was very French. It was also fatteningly fattening. And no red wine to conterbalance its effects.

Skinny Bunny gave me a set of healthy foods to either apologize for having woken me up last night or to thank me for having opened my door to give her the keys to her place, that she had given me when we used to live a stone throw from each other, as it appears she had locked herself out. The present was touching. I had felt a dip in our relationship after the last trapeze class. It seemed our eating habits were diverging. But we are now back in the best of terms, and the walnuts, porcini mushrooms, wholewheat crackers, fingerling potatoes and others that I found in my little present are a sign of the renewed friendship.