It’s All Too Much
Too much food here. Too much coffee. Too much sitting still. And, oh, the drugs! Bendryl to get to sleep. Pseudoephedrine to stay awake. Ibuprofen to kill the over-caffeinated headache. I’m a regular junkie, huh?
Kickin’ It Up a Notch
Went to Emeril’s (by boat, via the Royal Pacific Hotel) last night. Bam! But he wasn’t there. Oh well, it was still the single best eating experience of my little life. It wasn’t just the ingredients, the drinks, the army of highly-trained waiters who waited, ready to pounce every time we moved, to reset the table, or any other simple factor—it was the whole experience. Now, I’m not a huge fan of the guy. I don’t make it a point to watch him every night. But it was just so fantastic! I started with a Stella Artois, then a spicy little gumbo (the guy who delivered it did say the ubiquitous bam), then my entrée was a duck thing. Slices of slightly rare breast, and a whole leg quarter over a bed of rice mixed with foie gras and andouille. The whole thing sat in a bath of some reduction sauce, with a generous sprinkling of twisty fried sweet potato slivers. My companions had the following: andouille-encrusted Texas redfish; pork chops (that were humongous, like a small roast). For dessert I had the famous banana cream pie, which is, in fact, worthy of its fame. One companion had the chocolate hazelnut tart. (Which was, I must confess, not very good. The tart's crust was way too thick and hard, but after a mention of this to the waiter, it was replaced with two (2!) pieces of blueberry cheesecake. Another companion had the white chocolate crème brulee. One had something else, sort of a generic dessert, since I can’t recall exactly what it was. Yesterday was well and truly a day devoted to overeating.
Also, despite the impression given by my self-obsessed, epicurean posts, I miss Lauran and the boys terribly. Gabe lost his other front tooth and I wasn't there to see it.
I spent some time today sitting outside on the lawn in the sun. I doodled a little. I listened to some Belle & Sebastian. I was too close to some dog poop. It really upset me. Lauran says I have thing about poop. And it's not good.
From Sketchbook 9, 1993
Too much food here. Too much coffee. Too much sitting still. And, oh, the drugs! Bendryl to get to sleep. Pseudoephedrine to stay awake. Ibuprofen to kill the over-caffeinated headache. I’m a regular junkie, huh?
Kickin’ It Up a Notch
Went to Emeril’s (by boat, via the Royal Pacific Hotel) last night. Bam! But he wasn’t there. Oh well, it was still the single best eating experience of my little life. It wasn’t just the ingredients, the drinks, the army of highly-trained waiters who waited, ready to pounce every time we moved, to reset the table, or any other simple factor—it was the whole experience. Now, I’m not a huge fan of the guy. I don’t make it a point to watch him every night. But it was just so fantastic! I started with a Stella Artois, then a spicy little gumbo (the guy who delivered it did say the ubiquitous bam), then my entrée was a duck thing. Slices of slightly rare breast, and a whole leg quarter over a bed of rice mixed with foie gras and andouille. The whole thing sat in a bath of some reduction sauce, with a generous sprinkling of twisty fried sweet potato slivers. My companions had the following: andouille-encrusted Texas redfish; pork chops (that were humongous, like a small roast). For dessert I had the famous banana cream pie, which is, in fact, worthy of its fame. One companion had the chocolate hazelnut tart. (Which was, I must confess, not very good. The tart's crust was way too thick and hard, but after a mention of this to the waiter, it was replaced with two (2!) pieces of blueberry cheesecake. Another companion had the white chocolate crème brulee. One had something else, sort of a generic dessert, since I can’t recall exactly what it was. Yesterday was well and truly a day devoted to overeating.
Also, despite the impression given by my self-obsessed, epicurean posts, I miss Lauran and the boys terribly. Gabe lost his other front tooth and I wasn't there to see it.
I spent some time today sitting outside on the lawn in the sun. I doodled a little. I listened to some Belle & Sebastian. I was too close to some dog poop. It really upset me. Lauran says I have thing about poop. And it's not good.
From Sketchbook 9, 1993
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