We own this town this week.
Ours to break in, wear out, talk too loud, slip on that summer dress that's a little this-side-of-sexy. Who really cares, ‘cause girl you got some sun on your shoulders and, like summer's kiss, Restaurant Week only lasts so long.
I crib my reservations like my husband ticks off the brackets of the NBA Final Four or Grandma does with the Christmas list. Five full days to explore local restaurants with "get to know me" menus and prices. I treat the participating restaurants like one giant Twin Cities tasting menu, spanning over days, each dinner with a fresh purpose.
Sorry I forgot your birthday . . . just because you’re a great friend . . . family night . . . if I’ve got any motive to take out those I love, Restaurant Week is my absolution of sins and celebration.