Pesto and Goat's Cheese

So, we went out for dinner over the weekend.  I had fancied a wee bite at Prezzo…. But Miss Bags wanted to take Granny and Grumpy to Frankie and Benny’s as it is her current favourite restaurant.

We took a wee stroll from our house, to the shops and had a bit of a wander.  Picked up a few Christmas pressies (yes I know!  ALREADY!) Miss Bags had a Raspberry Slushie and The Wilburbeast had a mint choc chip ice-cream  I think the ice-cream found most of its way into Crummy Hubby’s belly tho!

At F&B’s we perused the menu, of course there was wine.  We had a nice drop of Frascati!  I chose the Californian pizza, which has pesto and goats cheese on it.  The Wilburbeast had fishfingers and chips, and Granny had a ham and pineapple pizza.  I could tell you what everyone else had too but it’s not really integral to the story and I don’t wish to bore you!  Also I’m not writing a restaurant review! 

The Wilburbeast spies my pizza and decides it looks better than his fishfingers.  Which I must add I have lovingly cut up in to bite-size pieces…..  I offer him a fishfinger – “NO!” he says, then says “Some, me, some?” pointing at my plate.  Thinking I have chosen the most child unfriendly item on the menu, and he won’t POSSIBLY like it, I offer him a slice.  

He opens wide (seriously the boy has a big mouth!), and takes a huge bite, goats cheese, pesto and all.  I brace myself, waiting for the avalanche of half chewed pizza to appear on the table as his two-year old palate decides that goat’s cheese and pesto is not for him.  Not so, he chewed, he swallowed, he smiled.  “More please! S’nice!”  After that he decided that my pizza was definitely the way forward.  Sensing I was condemned to a meal of cutted up fish-fingers and broccoli, Granny attempted to offer him some of her Ham and Pineapple pizza.  Before she even got it within range, “NO!, THIS ONE” he shouts indignantly (no concept of an indoor voice) and points at my plate.

Despite the pillaging of my pizza and a slight mishap involving a huge glass of wine, my wild gesticulating and Granny’s trousers,  a good time was had by all, and what a lovely late summer (I’m clinging on to all hope even though it is distinctly Autumnal here) evening to walk home.