Dinner With Fabio

Where - The Breeze - Restaurant & Bar

  At the New Century Plaza Hotel & Spa
      The Urban resort
      2025 Avenue of the Stars - Century City
      Los Angeles, CA 90067
     
      Andreas Nieto is the Executive Chef and Salamon was our waiter.
     
      We had excellent service - and attention - and the best food!
     
      I don't have the pastry chef's name - but he should be nominated for a Hall of Fame award - his deserts (several made it home with me) - are incredible! Decadent! Which is the only way deserts eaten in Century City should be!
     
     After I was captured at my hotel, by a gray limo, and a tall blond Italian, looking breath takingly beautiful in a blue shirt, black pants and a studded belt, along with my son, who was dressed in black silk tee, black pants, and carrying the red jacket, we traveled (30 minutes) to Century City. I didn't slide far into that car this time either! Like to keep the blond one close! I was as close to the big guy as it was possible to be and still be decent. Something about a hump in the middle dividing the seat in half, so we were in one half. One third. Whatever. My son we put in the bench seat facing us. My son was nervous.
     
      The Breeze had donated dinner for us (so the charity would not have to pay).
     
      We walked in and settled in a booth. My son on one side, and Fabio and I (yes, I never let him get far away), on the other.
     
      My son wanted a Caesar salad and Fabio ordered steamed clams and muscles. I have never eaten a whole clam or a muscle. I indulged in two muscles and one clam. The clam was kind of like chewing rubber. The muscles were interesting. I was busy asking questions and taking notes. He was busy eating.
     
      The chef discussed dinner options. My mouth watered. I had avoided all things in the stomach from 2PM on - except for Certs mints. Of course.
     
      I had tried Ahi Tuna (seared tuna) at the Sheraton for lunch and it was awful. So I tried it at the Breeze. And this time it was lovely.
     
      Fabio ordered the Tuna as a pre-dinner dish. My son opted for King Salmon. Fabio's dinner was choice was lobster.
     
      I was still talking, between bites, and writing furiously, my son was munching along, Fabio had a second lobster tail.
     
      The waiter tried wine on me, and I tried a sip. I flushed at once (I felt it) and giggled and put the glass aside.
     
      Better not. I had forgotten to eat any bread and butter first.
     
      This caused a few looks from Fabio who said he could tell I was hit because I was ------. Tried crawling into his lap - or nearly so! It was on my mind! He said I got "more personal" and laughed - and no, I did not molest him - but I was smiling too much! Maybe he was reading my mind! I offered to adopt him. Told the waiter (who was with us so much he was part of the conversation) that I would make him my "third child" and had my arms around him at the time. Ooops!
     
      I ordered coffee right away. Must not be unprofessional. I heard my son chuckle.
     
      Remember he doesn't like me having decaf? Well, he let me have the coffee but insisted that I use brown sugar. Flicked it at me. No more artificial sweeteners. They cause fluid retention. I defended my decaf. He said no decaf, if I must have it, use REAL coffee. That can be dangerous! "Then drink tea!" he said. Commanded more like. My son heard this. Reminded me all the way home.
     
      Along the way, as I continued to ask questions, I mentioned my workouts.
     
      He agreed with my kids, 300 lb. leg lifts were too heavy, cut the weight and increase the reps. OK, I'll try to behave. I told him that I was struggling to get the weight back off from the hospital. He said it would come off. Yeah, in about another year of starvation! High reps he said.
     
      I also showed him some photos of John in the hospital. He was touched, amazed, how do you say. He felt John was special (as I do). He and Eric (his manager) had followed the story through email the past two years. John is annoyed at this whole thing. But he needs to understand - he was unconscious for he hard stuff! My youngest son is modest.
     
      They brought us (my boy and I) a plate of scallops. Huge. I could get through two of them, my son tried one. Lovely if I hadn't been full. For him, they needed to not be raw in the center - due to the chemo. For me, they were so huge that they could have been dinner all by themselves. They were delicious.
     
      Well, as dinner closed, we were forced (yep, held us captive, twisted my arms), into having a sampling of the desert cart decorated all over the table.
     
      Utterly lovely.
     
      Beautiful presentation.
     
      I headed for the chocolate thing that looks like a cake, tastes like mousse and is so rich and decant------- I had a few bites. I just slipped them right in. Fabio made no comment. The waiter had agreed with me that it is scientifically proven that women require regular feedings of chocolate.
     
      Fabio was talking about motorcycles. Passionately. About as passionate as I was about the chocolate. He had turned down my offer to dress in leather, climb on the back of his bike and hang on for dear life. I told him I could hang on really tightly!
     
      It must have been the wine that made me say that. My son seconded it however, "Yes, she can hang on really well!"
     
      I had a decaf espresso after that, and I reached right for the brown sugar. After all, I didn't want my hand slapped.
     
      When we departed (3:15AM - Fabio had lost track of time), Salamon had packed up the desserts. My son joked with him to not worry about squishing them, that we would put them in a blender. No way!
     
      In their pretty box, they were tucked with loving care into my rolling ice chest.
     
      They rode inside the truck cab all the way home. (Bakersfield was doing 110.)
     
      The chocolate parts are now gone. See? Took three days. I showed incredible restraint. Cookies remain. As does a pastry. Of course, that was before I saw the photos. My excuse is that women who are separated from the blond one must have consolation!
     
      When the temperature goes back down under 100, I will return to working out. I will just paste that photo showing that I look 6 months pregnant on the refrigerator. That should do it.

      I have to get in shape for the SuperCross in early January.
      Fabio has invited us back down. He will get us all good seats.
      I plan on fitting into jeans. Black ones. Size 12. Thin as I ever get.