Tag: Gluttony

Through Fresh Eyes

The Worst

So Beloved Granddaughter has left us (along with her lovely parents) and gone back to Seffrica sob sob.

While Over Here, of course, we showed them around and tried to see the country from their perspective.

While they truly enjoyed themselves — I mean, Buc-ees, who could hate that? — there were some blots on the landscape, and here are the three most egregious:

1 – Waffle House Sucks

It used to be the place where America had breakfast on the road, and where we could be assured of an inexpensive meal drawn from a dizzying choice of meals.  Now?  I won’t be going back.  A cut-down, tiny menu (fallout from Covid, by the way), no longer inexpensive, and to be honest, the food was terrible even by WH’s standards.  (More on this later.)

2 – Sports Merchandise Is A Fucking Ripoff

We got to babysit Beloved Granddaughter while her parents went to watch a Dallas Mavericks game, which they enjoyed immensely — although bewildered by the spectacle.  The next morning, I went to Academy to buy them some Mavs stuff for souvies.  Did I?  Like hell I did.  $30 for a cheap (made in Third World Country #7) t-shirt?  $50 for a ditto sweatshirt, $25 for a cap?  WHO ARE THEY KIDDING?

3 – Light Beer Is Not Only Piss, It’s Also A Rip-Off

Son-in-law tried three different light beers (Bud Light, Miller Lite and Michelob Ultra), and declared them all to be shit beyond words.  (I could have told him that, but he wanted to “try the American experience” — his words —  even though I warned him against it.)  The nadir of all this came at the Mavs game, where he paid $10 for a cup of the aforesaid Michelob Ultra.  His description of American “light” beer cannot be repeated here, lest it offend my Readers’ sensitive feelings, and he is the politest, most Christian young man I’ve ever met.

Bonus:  Even Cheap Food Is Overpriced

Breakfast at IHOP:  $90 for four, excluding tip.  $12 for a stack of pancakes?  What the hell has happened to us?

Quite apart from poverty issues, it’ll be a LONG time before New Wife and I eat out again.  The prices aren’t just high, they’re a fucking insult.

Food Break

Food & Drink

Reader Mike L. sends me disgusting stuff like this — ugh — which forces me down a branch line of thought, basically to help me get rid of the taste of vomit.

I spend a lot of time talking about how much I love Britishland foods (fish & chips, meat pies, sausage rolls etc.) but I have to say that I’ve also come to love me some Tex-Mex dishes, e.g.:

and:

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the kitchen.

Coup De Grâce

Food & Drink, Friends and Family

I said yesterday that the three-day orgy of food (a.k.a. family Christmas feasts) was over, that I’d eaten enough for twelve Ethiopians and drunk enough for four Irish navvies, etc. etc. etc.

I lied.

Or rather, I forgot that we’d promised to take Brother-In-Law for some Mexican food for lunch yesterday.

And that we’d planned on dinner with Doc Russia and his exquisite wife later last night.

So of course we did both:  quesadillas, fajitas, chimichangas and so on, accompanied by the usual margaritas (at Gloria’s);  and beef short ribs, pineapple sponge cake with ice cream, and whiskey plus red wine (at Doc’s).

I now look and feel like Monty Python’s Mr. Creosote, understand how an actual python feels when it’s swallowed, say, a large pig, and I have lost the will to live.

Here’s a picture of a gun to keep you all happy:

And please excuse me while I go off and groan for a few hours.

Blown Out

Food & Drink

Aaaaargh.  Thanksgiving, schmanksgiving;  when it comes to extended gluttony (at least in our family), nothing begins to compare with the Three Days Of Christmas.

Christmas Eve “snacks” (if you can call a long dining room table FULL of finger foods and a huge charcuterie board “snacks”, plus of course booze);  Christmas morning brunch (full English plus cinnamon rolls, and mimosas);  and then the pièce de résistance, the Boxing Day Roast Beast, with enough wine to drown a walrus.

I don’t want to see any food until at least tomorrow, and not even a sniff of booze until New Year’s Eve.

Favored Nation

Food & Drink

As I’ve written before, I used to work from home before all the cool kids started doing it, for a tech company based in Pompano Beach, FL.  I used to fly down once a month to attend meetings, hang around and basically remind management that I was alive and doing good things for our clients, and in that time I ate out a lot at the local restaurants both in Pompano and the surrounding towns.

Some time later, I was chatting to one of the tech guys, a Cuban named Danny, and he asked me out for dinner, just the two of us because I was busy on some private skunkwork project and he wanted to get the details.  The conversation went as follows:

“Kim, do you like Cuban food?”
“Danny, I don’t like Cuban food — I fucking love it.”
“Really?”  (sounding surprised)
“Not just the food, either.  I love everything Cuban:  your food, your music — I don’t smoke, but if I did, I’d probably love your cigars as well.  I love your booze, your way of life, the way you guys dance, and your women — oh my Gawd, your women! — and if I could be reborn to any nationality and culture in the world, it would be as a Cuban, here in South Florida.”
Pause.
“Of course, your system of government absolutely sucks.”

So he took me to a little Cuban restaurant I’d never even heard of, let alone seen.  That night I fell in love with all things Cuban all over again, and Danny and I remained friends for years thereafter.

And my little skunkworks project turned into a system which later become an industry standard.

Anyway, here’s a little background Cuban music for you, and of course some local flavor:

¡Compasión!

We Knew That

Food & Drink, Lies and Untruths

And now we know:

Too bad that all this has come at a time when I can’t afford to buy the lovely stuff… but I guess I can always cut something from the budget (like a Netflix subscription) to get more meat.

And yes, I know I can’t afford the gas to get to the supermarket, either.  Which is why my apartment is walking distance from not one but two of them.

And now, if you’ll excuse me…