So for father’s day we went out to Flemings.  I want to start out by saying that I didn’t pay for any of this, it was all my dad’s dime, and I made sure to keep my mouth shut about how lame it was.  Also, I was already feeling kind of ill.  Anyways, Flemings is a restaurant that people apparently choose primarily for the wine list.  Afterall, the list of wines is longer than the list of food.  Right up my parents’ alley, who are very into wine, and apparently apathetic about any kind of food that didn’t used to be a cow.  As an alcoholic, I made the decision some two years ago that it was long past time for me to stop drinking, so I can’t really comment on the fantastic selection of over-priced snobby booze, but all of the food was twice, if not three times, what you could usually pay for a similar dish, and what I ordered was priced at four times what it was actually worth.  I had French onion soup with only parmesan on it, even though it was advertised as containing gruyere.  Incidentally, I had said “no Parmesan.”  Then I had these two crab cakes.  I judge people very very harshly on how they make crabcakes.  You must use only crab meat, and you may add only as much mayonnaise and other filler as is necessary to keep it holding together.  If you can’t live without spices, Old Bay is permissible.  You must never burn them.  The cakes I got were tiny, burnt, and before putting them on the plate, they had covered it in this bizarre red pepper sauce.  I had to transfer them to another plate in order to minimize contamination before eating them.  Oh, they looked nice.  Apparently, the chef believes that the presentation is the most important part of the meal.  Presentation is NOT the most important part of the meal.  Food is something that you eat, not something that you look at.  “So beautiful I don’t want to eat it” is a perfectly sensible viewpoint.  Afterall, if they spent so much of their energy on its appearance, how much was left over for the taste?  In this case, not much.   I was still hungry, and I kept feeling worse, and smelling everybody’s alcohol breath and listening to the conversations about alcohol was making me more and more overloaded.  I had some fries, too, and when I asked if I could order a steak, my dad offered me some of his.  I felt a little bit better after that, but I still needed some air.  I went to my car and laid back and listened to this.  When I got back, it was dessert, which was the only thing I really enjoyed.  Chocolate lava cake with vanilla bean ice cream and pistachios.  Cake in general is actually not very easy for me.  I guess, I dunno, I get overloaded from all the sugar and I just have to stop eating.  But it was close, even though I still didn’t feel good.  It was still nice to get home and eat something homemade.  I wonder sometimes if my cooking is so radically different that no one could ever eat it, and if I keep eating it, then I’ll never be able to eat anything else ever again. 

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2 Responses to

  1. Hate going out and feeling ill. It ruins everything.

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