The filet was like butter, topped with an au poivre sauce with whole green peppercorns and butter; the mushrooms expertly sautéed in brandy and butter; the onion rings were so good I will probably never have another onion ring anywhere because it couldn’t possibly live up to this precedent; the shiraz a perfect complement to every bite. The cup of decaf and raspberry sorbet was a delightful punctuation to a really good meal, and thankfully did not come with more butter. The service was terrific.
But I am so full I can’t possibly imagine eating again until 2012. I asked the waiter, as he was bringing the coffee and sorbet, if they served Crestor in little dishes with the dessert. He thought I was kidding.
I was thinking, as we exited the restaurant, of the little cameras they have set up at crucially frightening points of roller coaster rides, so that you can see, and take home, pictures of yourself as you scream your head off. I was wondering if they had similar cameras set up so we could see how we looked after we had been beaten by a food club.
We walked all the way around the block to get back to the hotel so I could try to walk off some of the meal. To think I put a bag of Gardettos back at the Subway/Convenience store at lunch time because of the 7 g. of fat.
There isn’t enough Metamucil in the world to undo what I’ve just done to my body.
Unfortunately, Second Son will now have to go to community college given the size of the tab. Every single thing you eat there is priced à la carte, which is apparently a fancy way of saying really really expensive. I think they might have charged us for every time we used our napkin. The waiter did brush up our crumbs, and asked politely if it would be okay if HE put the leftovers in a box for us.
The reservation for tomorrow night’s dinner at the symphony is for 6.