I waited around for the knitters to show up Wednesday night. So far they haven’t.
But that is ok. I’m still feeling the effects of a long illness and a long road trip.
At this point, I don’t even remember where my knitting is…oh, yes I do. Going to go get it now.
Continuing in the discovery of the vein of gold…as it pertains to food purveyors…I have become as the detective Hercule Poirot, in search of truthful, but manipulated by the wracking of the digestive process on my delicate constitution.
Here are a few dishes from the Posta Tuscan Grille in Raleigh.
I didn’t show a pic of the breakfast buffet. But some of the offerings were notable: great, gleaming jewel-like blackberries the size of plum tomatoes, crisp-and-browned-on-the-outside, velvety fluffy on the inside biscuits with a savory herbed cream gravy, creamy cheese grits. Many different kinds of muffins.
This was our dinner from Saffire in Charleston, SC (room service: decadently romantic!)
A luxurious little haven in which to work, while a gentle rain fell and fog rolled onto the riverbanks outside.
Before we left town, I visited Persimmon Café on my yoga buddy Karen’s recommendation, and snagged some snackage for the road.
I had a long, friendly chat with the proprietor about root beer and the fact that although the café is located inside a laundromat, its patrons have some very sophisticated taste in delicious and creative food!
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