Except there shall only be four foto(s) today, rather than the aforementioned five. Please forgive me for this sad state of things. After Steve and I returned from our wild, highly impractical, probably foolish, and terribly fun epic date from Morton's Steakhouse in downtown Chicago, my poor wittle squishy Daniel settled in to what has appeared to be a 4-day long bout with the stomach flu. Back to reality. I am fully intending on writing an tremendously long-winded, highly pretentious review of our astounding dinner at Morton's, but in the meantime, here's a few pics to tide thee over. Note: The lighting is very poor. I tried using the lightest filters I could find in Instagram, but Morton's is a super dark restaurant. Grr.
I just happened to be seated by the front portion of the kitchen at Morton's. How incredibly fitting is that?? I was simply mesmerized.
This, my dear friends, is nothing other than Morton's house bread and butter. When we cut into it, the steam arose in a most tantalizing and aromatic wisp, and it was the finest onion bread I have ever laid a taste bud on. And the butter!! Don't even get me started. I literally wanted to stick the butter in my purse and take it home for safekeeping. And smearing across anything that could possibly lend itself to consumption. Truly, the finest butter I have ever had.
The Odd Couple. I will go over everything on our plates later on in the most excruciating detail possible.
Poor little man. Ah, well. This too shall pass. Stay tuned for a truly pretentious restaurant review- coming soon!!
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