My dad’s birthday went without a hitch. Which is a good thing. We always say that momentous things happen on his birthday.

In 1989, Hepcat and I announced our engagement at the Gotham Restaurant. Before we got around to it, we nearly walked out because the service was so bad and my father asked if there was a mutiny in the kitchen. Fortunately we stayed. They gave us free champagne and Hepcat made the announcement at dessert.

In 1990, while dining in a restaurant on Spring Street, the Gulf War broke out and we taxied home to Brooklyn to watch the invasion of Kuwait on television.

Recent years have been more subdued. We had a festive meal at Mario Batali’s Lupa for dad’s 75th. A birthday dinner at 360 in Red Hook was especially nice.

Usually, the temperatures are much lower and his birthday is a cozy night in from the cold. Last year, we gave him a down jacket from Brooklyn Industries, which he loved. Unfortunately it didn’t fit and good old Brooklyn Industries wouldn’t exchange it (FINAL SALE ITEM).

Tonight we ate in a new French place in Brooklyn Heights on Henry Street. The joint was packed and the food was good. We gave my dad a book of photographs of Katrina and a book of Tiepelo’s work published by the Frick Museum. He was happy. MiMa Cat gave him $100. to make a Pick-6 bet with — as in six horse races in a row.

Back at their apartment, we talked about the state of the world, Iraq, and the need to impeach George W. Bush. We listened to Anita O’Day scat sing and ate bread pudding from Sweet Melissa’s.

All in all, an unmomentous night. And that’s always a good thing.

By the way, DAD: Happy Birthday!