Ate this lovely duck confit over bacony saurkraut with a side of potato puree at a neighborhood bistro that I long to return to, called Aubergine. This was a perfect plate. I think of it still.
I didn't get to most of the restaurants on my list. Though, I can't say I regret being persuaded to visit a suburban karaoke joint. Oh. My. God. Those Swedes sure can drink. The woman who did a face plant onto the stage, the other woman who said she was from Brazil, started to dance lasciviously to someone else's song, occasionally flashing the now slack-jawed crowd. Good times. Will have to return with Mr. Pants.