It’s Monday but not your typical
Monday; at least not for me. Date night with the missus on Sunday which
naturally means a much later night but a much funner night which means no
workout this morning which, coupled with the slight hangover, means a little
more of “the Mondays” if you catch my drift. While you were home on your Sunday
making goulash or whatever you may have nuked in the microwave, I was dining on
kohlrabi, clams, pork, and semolina cake to finish all with beverage accompaniment.
Oh and what kind of restaurant doesn’t carry Dewars single malt scotch? Did the
poles of the globe switch? How is a man supposed to start a fine meal without his
favorite scotch? So with every meal a chef comes out and explains this and that
and the bartenders give you all the hullaballoo about how this wine is “funky” because
it comes from soil around Mount Etna and yadi yadi yadda…but the portions…were
sOooooo small. My wife’s monkfish may
have tasted like heaven but who needs heaven when it’s done in one bite? Not to
say the meal wasn’t good because it was – the bartender overheard me say “that
is what I’m talking about” regarding the clams and had a chuckle.
So the moral of the story is that
heaven needs more square footage.
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