March 30th, 2015


In Celebration Of Fine Dining

Those five of you who read my blog know that I love good food. And good stories.

Lawrence Schoen does a weekly blog entry every Monday called Eating Authors, where he gets authors to discuss some memorable meal. I also recently reviewed Ferrett Steinmetz's debut novel Flex (DW). So today's entry is a confluence of all that is good and wonderful.

Ferrett Steinmetz on Eating Authors.
(NOTE: Because I am a gourmand, I do not describe myself as chubby. I am, rather, Ferrett confit.)

So when I discuss the best meal I’ve ever had, should I talk about eating the gold-encrusted salad I had at the two-Michelin star restaurant Sixteen? Or the life-changing agnolotti I had at Joe Bastianich’s Babbo? Or even the greasiest, cheapest, most delicious egg-and-bacon sandwich you can get at Cleveland’s very own Old Fashion Hot Dogs, where you can stuff three people full of perfectly-grilled “dawgs” for under ten dollars?

No. The first fine meal I had was the greatest fine meal, and cannot be surpassed. Because of my Uncle Tommy.
Come for the food, stay for the good cry.

Dr. Phil
Posted on Dreamwidth
Crossposted on LiveJournal