I love convertibles. I drove one when we were first married in California. Two years ago, Hubby bought a convertible when I was newly pregnant, again. He said it was for me, but I really didn't drive it that much. He found another vehicle he wanted, so it was time to sell the convertible. The buyer was purchasing the vehicle in a few days, and this was our last weekend to use it. We arranged for our sitter to stay with the kids, and planned two stops.
We swung by our pastor's home for a few minutes. He was having an open house for families with children. They just finished their remodel, and of course we wanted to see. We were a family with children, but the only family there without children. HA!
When you enter a home in Hawaii, there is an unspoken rule that you just don't wear shoes in the home. You don't even ask people to remove their shoes. They just do.
People entertain more outside than inside. Covered lanais are considered extra living space, and count toward a home's total square footage. Their lanai is large and covered with a roof, but open on all sides. Huge area rugs are centered on the concrete, with plenty of seating facing their verdant and serene back yard.Our pastor's wife is a character, in a quiet sort of way. She and I have had a special friendship for the last 3 years. We both have that "I Love Lucy" quality that begs patience from our husbands. We didn't make it very easy for Hubby to take our picture.
We couldn't leave without eating. You have to eat at someone's home in Hawaii. It is not an option not to eat. It borders on rudeness. It is also cultural that you are offered a take home plate with food. We had a few pupus, and passed on the take home plate. We told them we had a dinner reservation, but they insisted we stay. It would have been rude to leave. We stayed, just for a bit longer, complimenting them on the remodel.At the risk of losing our reservation, we said mahalo and aloha (thank you and goodbye) and jumped in our convertible. The sunset was terrifically red, but it was a moment that you simply had to be there.
We drove south on the H2 to the H1 East. We exited the freeway, and drove along the water front to Ward Center, for dinner at Kincaid's.
We started with rosemary ciabatta bread. We told ourselves it was just like regular sourdough, made from wheat flour, totally allowable on the South Beach. And it could have been. So we left it at that. We were a little tied over from pupus. We skipped appetizers and went for the entrees.
I had the signature rock salt prime rib, aged 28 days under a mountain of rock salt. YUM YUM YUM! I ordered double veggies, and passed on the starch. Of course I shared some with Hubby! You didn't think I was going to walk out of there wearing that piece of meat all by myself, now did you?!? Do NOT answer that, Mom! Don't tell anyone how carnivorous I am...ROAR!
Hubby had the asiago-almond crusted sea scallops. NO I was not going to let him walk out of there wearing them all by himself, either! We had to share this stuff, too!!Time on the babysitter clock was ticking. We were still eating dinner and asked for the dessert menu, because we are efficient with our calories. HA HA HA. We had a hard time choosing. The waitress totally understood our dilemma because she lost a ton of weight on a different diet. When we deviate from the diet, we like to feel guilt free, entitled, and rewarded for cheating. So the dessert has to be worth it. If we are going to cheat, it has to be a nice big fat scrumptious offense.
Our first order was the Original Burnt Cream, or creme brulee. It is their award winning dessert. People raved to us about it. We tried it, and it was good, as far as creme brulee goes. But we weren't really in the mood for creme brulee.
The waitress swung by after we each had a bite. It was good, but we just didn't love it. Oooh she encouraged us to send it back if we weren't satisfied, and order something else. We about jumped out of our skin. We both wanted C.H.O.C.O.L.A.T.E.....not fat free, and not sugar free, as we had obediently eaten on the diet. Our next order was the chocolate torte with fresh strawberries, and vanilla ice cream. Two minutes later the waitress appeared, apologetically. They just ran out of the chocolate torte!!! I looked suspiciously at the tables around us. WHO had ordered our chocolate torte?!?
For our third order, we chose the Chocolate Indulgence Cake. I am not kidding you. That is really what it is called. And it requires capitalization. See this? It is served on a dinner plate. And just to make me get up and dance she asked the kitchen to plop a nice scoop of vanilla on the side.
But to really, really romance me, Hubby asked for something sweet to pour over it. Didn't they have some sauce they poured over their cheesecake, or something? She scampered away happily, and returned with a little pitcher of strawberry sauce.
We arrived home to find Son1 sprawled on the couch. He had fallen asleep watching a movie. Hubby picked him up, reminiscing about he used to hold him as a sleeping baby, against his chest. It was just so funny, because right as he was saying it, we knew he has grown so far from that. He's not quite four yet, but he is tall.
Hubby and I went to bed with full hearts and full stomachs. We were happy we had our last convertible ride for now, and had eaten a dinner and dessert that was gratifying.
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