Ben Folds with the Pittsburgh Symphony!

Last night Rob and I belatedly celebrated our anniversary (I was zonked and had no appetite after work last Sunday) with dinner and a show.  Our friend Maria came to watch Buggy so Rob and I could dine at Salt of the Earth, our second visit to a pretty remarkable restaurant not far from our house.  I was famished, and the portions are decidedly small, but we left completely satisfied nonetheless.  Rob and I are both voracious eaters so it can be a bit disheartening to have a plate arrive with but a smidgen of artfully garnished grub, but really, when we savor the deliciousness, the carefully considered elements, our bellies seem just as full.

My date

Risotto with crab

  Scallops with lentils and sausage for Rob

Hickory smoked tofu and asparagus for me

 Rhubarb, white chocolate, shortbread, granola, and ginger-mint ice cream

Strawberries, chocolate, granola, and dill!

Afterward, we followed Penn Avenue all the way downtown to Heinz Hall where concertgoers were flocking.  The masses were comprised of a diverse-yet-white group of what looked like pretty normal people.  Normal white people usually like Ben Folds, the quirky songwriter-pianist from Chapel Hill, North Carolina, whose echo of an accent reminded my of my own family in the Tar Heel State.  Our seats in the grand hall were sweet: twenty-five rows back and just a hair to the right of center; had we been sitting a seat farther over we wouldn't have been able to see his fingers dance and flutter over the keys.  The 90-piece orchestra took their seats, warmed up, we applauded, then Ben Folds walked out onto the stage looking rumpled as ever in his black suit and untucked white shirt.  He immediately took to the piano, the two things almost synonymous to me, and my jaw dropped.  It stayed that way for the remainder of the song while my eyes welled with tears.  Sometimes music really gets me.  It was stunning.  I used to bring a notebook with me to concerts to take careful notes.  I no longer do this and choose to just enjoy the show.  So I sat, watching Ben Folds play and sing beautifully and make witty remarks.  At one point he was asked by an audience member to make up a song, which is something he regularly does during live performances.  He arranged parts for the symphony and composed what Rob doubted was an off-the-cuff ode to Pittsburgh (he'd just learned that Pittsburgh boasts not only the highest per capita number of female sports fans but mullets, neither of which surprised me since Rob and I saw just that morning a man with a gloriously curly mullet that could have - should have - been a doll's wig walking his dog near the cemetery.  And female sports fans?  No kidding.  I think I'm the only female in the lot that couldn't care less about the Steelers, Penguins, or Pirates, though there have been many times when I wish I did).  Maybe it was pre-arranged, but it was grade A entertainment either way.  Lesson learned: see Ben Folds whenever he comes to town because, Buggy aside, there's not much sweeter than sitting in a beautiful old theater crying over Fred Jones Part 2 while holding Rob's hand.