Twentieth Anniversary Party, Lawyer Style

Mozzarella ball on red pepper jelly on crostini with salt on top. In front of a candle

I hadn’t realized my lawyer’s firm was established the same year I was injured. Twenty twenty. So when I received the invitation last year for their big bash to celebrate and saw it’d be in Assembly Hall, one of the few places I can navigate reasonably well, I said yes. One of the weird things about long insurance battles is you get to know your lawyer, get used to him in your life, then suddenly all is settled and poof, you never see him again. This was my chance. I would have to go right when it started, probably I’d last only an hour, but I’d get to say, “Hi!”

On the evening, quite a few had the same idea to arrive at the start, but I didn’t have trouble checking in my coat, getting my name tag, passing security (does anywhere not have security these days‽), entering the DJ-blasted candle-lit space, and finding the coffee.

But oh no! It wasn’t Bulldog coffee! He’d moved? Again?‽! Never fear, a small cup would do, and it was decent.

Then I saw David. There’s nothing so validating as someone happy to see you and chatting with you at top volume over the music long after host duties were calling to him. It’s also great seeing a person you first met when he was barely out of law school doing so well. It sort of makes you feel not everything sucks in this world.

Too soon, time to part and for me to read the posters on Howie Sacks and Henry history, slither between black-encased working high-powered people, and beeline for food. The food stations weren’t crowded yet, and I got to experience the narrate-your-food service. Yeah, I don’t go to high end restaurants anymore, so this was a bit of a treat. Then I took a bite of my crostini spread with a smear of red pepper jelly topped with a perfectly round mozzarella ball drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with sweet coarse salt.

Oh. My. God.

So. Damn. Good.

The second soft mozzarella ball balanced on a smudge of tomato sauce on the crostini. I went back. My next two were blueberry-cranberry jam and the red pepper jelly. When I went back for thirds, a line had formed. Drat. But I had to leave by then, my senses were crushed into my brain and screaming for mercy as the crowd was beginning to thicken and blocking all access to the long bar. I said bye to David and skedaddled, dreaming of mozzarella balls on jam-smeared crostini.

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