Just the other night, I met my friend, Lin, for drinks and dinner. She is moving back to Chicago after living in wine country for many years and is overseeing work on her new property.

It was the first time since mid-March that I ate out in a public place

After driving out to her new address, an architectural landmark building along Lake Shore Drive, and exchanging tiles at a nearby Home Depot, we parked in the bowels of her high-rise, and walked over to LUXBAR, near Rush Street.

After long, frustrating days of dealing with contractors and living on carry-outs or microwavable meals from Trader Joe’s, she was more than ready for a sit-down dinner.

We donned our face masks before we stepped out of my car and were careful to have them in place any time we spent in public.

During our walk, she talked up the wonder of our destination’s signature dessert, rich vanilla ice cream with to-die-for cherries. The fifteen minutes it took to get there could not come fast enough.

When we arrived at the host’s station, our temperatures were taken. Bowing my head as a way of greeting and submitting to this “new normal” ritual is still hard for me to get used to. Like most reasonable people, though, I am happy to comply with the safety precautions.

We took a table on the second floor. A lot of space was between tables. All the waitstaff wore facemasks. It was obvious the management wanted their customers to feel comfortable.

Once seated, we perused the cocktail menu. I decided on a classic Moscow Mule, which I find incredibly refreshing, and Lin went for something called a Guilty Pleasure, a premium tequila drink with blood orange liqueur, ginger and splashes of lemon juice and bitters. Guilty pleasure became my theme for the night.

At our table, we took off our masks and clinked our glasses. It was so wonderful to enjoy a meal that someone else prepared, one cooked by professional chefs using quality ingredients. It was great to indulge in a cocktail at the end of a challenging week, one made with spirits and flavors I don’t keep in my home bar.

It was wonderful to be out in the world at a place that took our health concerns seriously and was genuinely happy to have our business.

• Their strip steak and frites offering was under $20. They understood that medium rare meant red in the middle.
• Their fries were perfect. Optionally, they were served with the basics — salt, pepper and ketchup – or came doused with truffle oil and parmesan.
• And the sundaes were as good a Lin boasted. They used Italian Luxardo Maraschino cherries, which are soaked in brandy. Per Lin’s instructions, they served four extra cherries in little stainless dipping bowls, as if they were precious. They were.

Not to sound like a Ron Popeil kitchen device promoter, yet I have to add, “But wait. There’s more…”

After we cashed out under contactless guidelines, filled our palms with hand sanitizer, and adjusted our masks, we took a perfect stroll back to her building.

The air temperature was in the low seventies. Although not crowded, the streets were not devoid of people, of life. Locals, wearing masks, were out walking their dogs. Muffled by our respective face coverings, dog parents introduced us to their beloved Teddy and Tinker. We commented on their sweetness.

It seemed kind of surreal to see everyone wearing masks but also heartening that so many people seemed willing to make adjustments and LIVE.

Returning to the theme, Guilty Pleasure, I thought about the slice of blood orange floating on top of Lin’s cocktail. I started to question whether I should feel any joy while there are so many people suffering.

I acknowledge how I’ve been fortunate in so many ways. I feel kinship to those grieving and try to improve things where I can.

I also consciously give attention to seeing good in what is. Not only is that important in staying sane through difficult times, it helps us create the lives we want to live.

Enjoying life to the fullest, even during a pandemic, foregoing guilt, is no small thing.