Dinner at Dosa

Last night I had dinner with Peter and Luis at Dosa, on Valencia, although without Luis. Really great south indian food. Peter goes there a lot, and is treated like royalty. He had made the reservations for the wrong night, and even though it was packed, with people crowded around the front door waiting for a table, they immediately whisked us to a cozy little table. All the wait staff came by to kiss him, one by one. Since Peter began losing his sight, his intelligence, wit, and charm seem amplified. He’s my age, but he’s a gay man from a different era, a voracious reader, conversant about everything. Sometimes walking with him I forget that he’s blind, and he bumps into things and just laughs, neither frustrated nor upset, just accepting and amused. He uses his hands to push things onto his fork, which is almost shocking at first, and then endearing, to hear this brilliant man talking about Buddhism and his new Ming cabinet with his hands dripping lamb curry.