Rudi and I just returned from a fabulous date to the 1789 Restaurant in Georgetown. I am stuffed. I may never eat again. Saying that pretty much guarantees I’ll be starving in the morning.

The meal started with some tasty bread.

Rudi opted for fish for both his first and main courses. The first course wasn’t cooked. Rudi informs me this was both intentional and delicious. I took his word for it.

I ordered a delicious tomato salad for my first course — huge slices of yellow and red tomatos with some basil strips (okay, Suzanne, you’re right; it would really suck to be allergic to basil) and ricotta cheese and balsamic vinegar. It was just the perfect blend of salty and sweet.

For my main course, I supped on the vegetable tasting menu. Let me tell you, when people think, “You’re a vegetarian; aren’t you hungry all the time?” they’re dead wrong. My meal literally arrived on a platter and took twice as long to eat as Rudi’s. It included green beans marinated in balsamic vinegar (my least favorite part of the meal), an espresso-sized cup of tomato-squash-ginger soup, grilled kernals of corn, creamed spinach, chanterelle mushrooms, fried potato wedges, tomato and spinach, mashed potato, and a mushroom roll. I honestly thought I might explode when I finished.

But did I stop there? Oh no. There was still dessert and tea to come.

Rudi had a cheesecakey tarte. It was okay, but I opted for the peach galette with bergamot ice cream. Divine. Would have been better if I hadn’t, by that point, been wishing I’d worn a skirt with an elastic waist band.

We walked back up to Georgetown to collect Rudi’s bike back at his office and then biked home as the clock ticked its way down to midnight.

(It was a lovely anniversaryish dinner, dear. Thanks for taking me out — and for being a wonderful part of my life for 11 years.)