Premeditated Sin
Tomorrow I will wake up and put into action a special plan for gluttonous meat consumption.
Three months ago I asked Stacy to not get me anything for my birthday. No card. No gifts. Nothing. All I wanted was to go on a date with her to a very specific eatery. Behold, tomorrow night I will eat as much meat as my heart desires at Amor de Brasil Fiery Steakhouse. My mouth waters in anticipation.
The draw of this particular meal is that they take 15 cuts of prime meats, season them, and then slow roast and grill them over an open flame. Filet mignon, rack of lamb, leg of lamb, pork ribs, tenderloin. The list goes on.
The best part? It's all you can eat. The hosts carry the meat around the dining room on skewers and slice the meat onto your plate at your request.
I love Brasil.
As you can imagine, such a meal cannot be found on an Extra Value Menu. Thus my request that it be the only celebratory act to commemorate my birth this year. Believe you me, I plan on making the most out of the evening.
I plan on starting my day tomorrow with my morning cup of coffee and a single slice of toast. Have to get that metabolism rolling. A small meat sandwich for lunch should keep things rolling, but not prevent me from working up a ravenous hunger by the time our 6pm reservation arrives.
Once we get to the the restaurant I plan on making a single, moderate pass at the salad bar. Then? All meat, baby. NO sugary drinks that might suppress the appetite. No saving room for desert. Please. I plan on packing this scrawny frame with more meat than it has ever seen before.
If you want to stop by an say "hi", I'll be the dude wearing the sweatbands and fighting off a severe case of the meat sweats. Fortunately, I've already commissioned Stacy to be my designated driver, in the likely event that I am suffering from protein-induced delusions by the time they kick us out of the dining room when the restaurant closes.
Fair Dinkum
Three months ago I asked Stacy to not get me anything for my birthday. No card. No gifts. Nothing. All I wanted was to go on a date with her to a very specific eatery. Behold, tomorrow night I will eat as much meat as my heart desires at Amor de Brasil Fiery Steakhouse. My mouth waters in anticipation.
The draw of this particular meal is that they take 15 cuts of prime meats, season them, and then slow roast and grill them over an open flame. Filet mignon, rack of lamb, leg of lamb, pork ribs, tenderloin. The list goes on.
The best part? It's all you can eat. The hosts carry the meat around the dining room on skewers and slice the meat onto your plate at your request.
I love Brasil.
As you can imagine, such a meal cannot be found on an Extra Value Menu. Thus my request that it be the only celebratory act to commemorate my birth this year. Believe you me, I plan on making the most out of the evening.
I plan on starting my day tomorrow with my morning cup of coffee and a single slice of toast. Have to get that metabolism rolling. A small meat sandwich for lunch should keep things rolling, but not prevent me from working up a ravenous hunger by the time our 6pm reservation arrives.
Once we get to the the restaurant I plan on making a single, moderate pass at the salad bar. Then? All meat, baby. NO sugary drinks that might suppress the appetite. No saving room for desert. Please. I plan on packing this scrawny frame with more meat than it has ever seen before.
If you want to stop by an say "hi", I'll be the dude wearing the sweatbands and fighting off a severe case of the meat sweats. Fortunately, I've already commissioned Stacy to be my designated driver, in the likely event that I am suffering from protein-induced delusions by the time they kick us out of the dining room when the restaurant closes.
Fair Dinkum