Dinner at 246

Taking advantage of the last of good summer traffic on a Friday night, we headed over to 246 for dinner. I can't recall how exactly, but we ended up at the chef's counter. Drew had already left for the night, but we were well cared for.

I was feeling a bit blue, not that I can remember why now. Melancholy, perhaps.

I started off with the meatball. The 246 meatball has a special place in my heart. When I was little, we used to go to my godparents' house for dinner sometimes. They were Italian-American and these dinners were some of the only glimpses that I really got into the food they ate when they weren't giving me animal crackers and apple juice.

Anyway, we usually had meatballs or ziti or ... well, most of it I can't remember. But I do remember big, tender meatballs, ones I've repeatedly tried to make but could never do at home. These 246 meatballs, they tasted like my childhood memories, sitting in their kitchen.

After that, we ordered the chicken scaloppini for two, our first time ordering it. That's my serving in the picture above. Tagliatlle, brown butter, fried capers, garlic toast, parsley.

I knew it would be good. I didn't figure it would remind me of a dijon chicken dish my mother used to make for me. I haven't had it in years, but the second I put it in my mouth, I could remember her making it for me. Of course, hers was different and yet the same.

It was a powerful moment.