
Last night, I had dinner at Friday, Saturday, Sunday. It's a restaurant that is a throwback (but in a very good, comforting way) to the 1980's. It takes up the bulk of an old brick rowhouse on the edge of the Rittenhouse Square neighborhood, the downstairs dining room is lined in wood paneling and mirrors (thus the eighties feel) and diners are perch on scarred chairs or along a padded built in seat that runs the length of the wall. Neither fancy, nor cheap, the food is the sort of stuff that you might make at home if you had enough time or inclination to use that much butter.
While they've never done their own cookbook (like their now-shuttered former peer The Commissary), they've posted one of their most popular recipes on their website. I had this Cream of Mushroom Soup last night and it was one of the best things I've eaten in weeks. Smooth, but not in a way that resembles baby food, the mushroom flavor sings and the shot of cognac gives it a welcome, warming buzz. If it tastes as good in my kitchen as it did in the restaurant, I may be saying good-bye to my previous muchroom soup favorite.


A lot of states here in the U.S. have laws banning alcohol sales on Sunday's. I've never really understood why. People are still going to drink if they really want to, so there's no big moral reason. That's even less of a reason if the state allows restaurants that sell adult beverages to operate on 
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