Sans Viande

Happy Mardi Gras! This is the day to stuff yourself silly with all of the food and vices that you intend to do without for the Lenten season. Last year's Mardi Gras was filled with alcohol and bad language (sadly, so was Lent). This year is going to be equally challenging, but I will prevail.

For forty days, I will go without meat and threats or acts of violence.

Ben does not like this idea. He is the sort of person who likes to share whatever he is eating, and the boy loves meat. He is already crestfallen at the idea of me making steak for him and tempeh for myself. You'd think that I was forcing him to be vegetarian, too.
As a gesture of support, he promised me a delicious steak dinner tonight. Imagine my reluctance when we pulled up to Bates Steak House, a run-down and wholly cowboy-themed restaurant with country music blaring. Can I order my steak with a side of white trash and a Dolly Parton song, please?

Good Lord, was I wrong; the food was fantastic. I humbly yummed my way though an inventive vegetable and bean soup, an achingly tender prime rib, and perfect roasted potatoes (I traded my share of rice pilaf for Ben's share of potatoes, since he hates them). Included with dinner is your choice of liqueur or a root beer float (Irish cream for me; root beer for Ben). The food was so good that I am tempted to relent something else so I can come back next week.

My sincere apologies to Bates for my elitist and prejudiced nature. Please forgive me.

So long, and thanks for all the beef.