MY MEMORIES of that day have faded to sensory wisps.
The richness of the aioli in which we dipped our frites. The affable exchange with a waiter who graciously allowed us to stow our stroller near the kitchen entrance. The salinity of oysters appropriately dubbed âOld Saltsâ and the bite of the lemon I spritzed to tame them.
That visit to Kybecca took place on March 6, 2020, but it feels like a bygone era. Five days later, the World Health Organization declared the novel coronavirus a global pandemic. You know the rest.
At the writing of this column, I havenât dined inside a restaurant in more than a year. Neither has any member of my immediate family.