Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Bagels with cream cheese for breakfast with Patrick. Wrapped Patrick's gifts. Napped. Lunch at home with Patrick: leftover pasta salad, bread. I chose a secret event for Patrick today: The Christmas Ballet by Michael Smuin and Smuin Ballet at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts (700 Howard Street at Third). Our seats again were in the balcony (A101 and A102)—among the best seats in the balcony, I'd guess. The event was made particularly memorable because of the 3 women seated to our left in seats A103, A104, and A105. The one in A104 was talking to both of her friends during the first minutes of the performance. I said nothing, thinking it would stop after awhile, but it did not and it was hard to enjoy the music and the ballet with them talking. I leaned over and said quite loudly, "SHHHHH!" drawing it out at the end hoping that others would hear causing them further embarrassment. I saw their eyes big, like they were spooked by a ghost, and they got very quiet after that. Some time past the midpoint of the first half, however, the cellphone of the woman in A104 started ringing. It was some carefree, shake-your-ass jingle that I didn't recognize, but I tell you it didn't go well with Mozart's Domine from Mass in C Minor. I remained calm and didn't even turn to look at her. During intermission, nothing was said between us. However, the woman in A104 decided—after at least 10 minutes of intermission—that she needed to get up. She passed in front of me and Patrick and was two steps away when the lights started to go down. She stepped out the doors then came immediately back in—I guess she was being asked to take her seat. It was dark by the time she got back to our row, and as she passed again, she stepped on my foot. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Did I step on your foot?" I couldn't tell if she did it intentionally or not, so I completely ignored her by leaning over towards Patrick to see the performance. Not a word, not even a glance. She again tried to get my acknowlegement of her apology—"Sorry! Are you okay?"—and after a few embarrassing seconds of realizing that she was being ignored, she finally sat down. I was a bit surprised that they caused no further grief for the second half. I had first found out about the ballet from a postcard flyer in Nan King Road Bistro. The flyer showed a photo of a blonde white woman with great teeth taken during (presumably) one of the ballet performances. She wore a Santa cap and a satiny outfit—tight-fitting above the waist and dress-billowy below. Her left arm is raised in sync with the white-shirted, black-pantsed male dancer behind her. They both have great teeth, in fact. And they both have orgasmic smiles of joy on their faces. The woman's armpit happens to be prominent in this particular photo. Since her arm is raised, the armpit is just beside her face, and they both appear in the center of the image. It's as though her face and smile is saying, "Hey! Look at how smooth and beautiful my armpit is!" In fact, until I saw the words "The Christmas Ballet" on the card, I thought it was an ad for women's shaving cream. I can't recall ever having been to a ballet performance. (I figure Stern Grove doesn't really count.) Dance—yes, but ballet—no. At least not that I remember. Act 1 was all classical: Bach's Magnificat; Zither Carol; Corelli's Largo; Mozart's Domine; Riu Riu Chiu; Hodie Christus Natus Est; Veni, Veni, Emmanuel; Mozart's Gratias, The Gouchestershire Wassail; Handel's Pastoral Symphony; Virgin Mary Had A Baby Boy; and Bach's Jouchzet Frohlocket. Act 2 was all modern: Santa Claus is Coming to Town (Haven Gillespie and The Jackson 5), Christmas in New Orleans (Louis Armstrong), Little Drummer Boy (Lou Rawls), Pretty Paper (Willie Nelson), Santa Baby (Eartha Kitt), Winter Weather (Peggy Lee, Art Lund, Benny Goodman), Baby It's Cold Outside (Frank Loesser, Ray Charles, Betty Carter), Frosty (Jack Rollins and Jimmy Durante), Christmas Island (The Heptones), Jingle Bells (Duke Ellington—orchestration), Sugar Rum Cherry (Tchaikovsky, adapted by Duke Ellington), Bells of Dublin (The Chieftans), Feliz Navidad (Jose Feliciano and Esteban), and White Christmas (Irving Berlin and Bing Crosby). Shopping downtown: The Container Store, Virgin Records. Dinner at Watercress with Patrick: Christmas Eve four-course dinner. Course 1: cappuccino of lobster bisque. Course 2: sesame seed and black-pepper-crusted ahi tuna (with golden beets and ahi tuna tartare Napoleon, and balsamic soy reduction) for Patrick and three large crispy tiger prawn wontons (stuffed with tiger prawn, tomatoes, aromatic herbs; basil coulis on the side) for me. Course 3: grilled hanger steak (with polenta gratin, sauteed daikon julienne, and green peppercorn sauce) for Patrick and grilled swordfish (with roasted sweet corn, cherry tomato relish, and Yukon Gold potato gallet) for me. Course 4: dessert was five "petit fours" each: chocolate truffle cheese, coconut St. Honore, Christmas fruit chocolate, strawberry meringue, and toffee nut puff. Drinks: 1 bottle of sparkling mineral water, 1 glass of red wine for Patrick. Dinner total: about $60 each. (We didn't try it, but today's menu also offered an oven-roasted veal t-bone steak with baby spinach, herbed mashed potatoes, and carmelized onion sauce.) Watercress (1152 Valencia Street, 415-648-6000) is the restaurant formerly known as Watergate. It's the same location and same owners as the old Watergate, but they moved the new Watergate to Nob Hill (1177 California Street, 415-474-2000) and changed the name of the restaurant at this Valencia street location to Watercress. We had become familiar with it when we lived in the Mission over a year ago. We'd gotten a server who seemed green, but she was friendly and eager and did an acceptable job. We were pleased, as usual, with the kitchen's efforts: excellence in all courses and very satisfying. Watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with Burl Ives.