Escape your life for a little while — come play in mine.

I’ll have the briquette, please. Extra-charred.

Posted by Lissa on December 17, 2008

With the kind link from Caleb and the hits pouring in from last night’s Gun Nuts, it’s obviously time for a dose of the Humble.  After all, these new folks might think that a mention from intelligent people like Caleb and Breda mean that my blog has Teh Smart.  I assure you that while a stopped clock is right twice a day, I have no such guarantee.  (I don’t even POST twice a day, you know.) 

Therefore, let me tell you about my sad, sad first experience at Morton’s Steakhouse.  I first entered The Land of The Happy Pig (they don’t serve pork, you see) during my sophomore year in college.  As a member of an eating house (like a sorority, only no national ties), I was gung-ho about setting up a friend-of-a-friend with a potential recruit, a first-year who sang next to me in choir.  Accordingly, I rounded up a date for myself and brought our happy foursome to Morton’s Steakhouse in Charlotte.

Rest content, pig.  Pulled pork's not till next week.

Rest content, pig. Pulled pork's not till next week.

I was fresh and pretty.  I was friendly and charming.  I was elegant and sophisticated.

I ordered my filet mignon well done.

Oh, the humanity!

Yes, dear readers, I went to one of the prime steak places on the East Coast and had them BUTTERFLY my insanely expensive, tender, delicious, juicy piece of delectation so that the cook could efficiently transform it into a crispy, blackened coal.  Julia Childs WEPT.  Oh, and I didn’t finish the pre-ordered, unbelievably decadent Morton’s Famous Hot Chocolate Cake either.

(hangs head in shame)

Ah, well.  Turns out, I wasn’t the saddest diner in our party.  I feel confident that Potential Recruit took that honor, as she turned out to be bulimic.  I’m guessing that even my blackened lump of cow tasted better going down, than her perfectly cooked medium-rare steak did coming back up.

P.S.  After many years of yoga, self-discipline, apprenticing-as-a-young-Grasshopper etc., I now like my steak medium rare.  Your mileage may vary.

Dinner last night

6 Responses to “I’ll have the briquette, please. Extra-charred.”

  1. secretlivesofscientists said

    Hahahhaa…eeeeeeeeeewww, thanks for that mental picture. Well done? Well? Done? Ok, in the spirit of confessions, I forgive you, my child.

  2. BobG said

    “I ordered my filet mignon well done.”

    Did you add insult to injury and put ketchup on it? LOL

  3. mike w. said

    mmm that looks good!

  4. Brad K said

    I loved that James Garner, Doris Day movie. “Crunch. Crunch. Please give my compliments to the chef!”

  5. Mad Saint Jack said

    (they don’t serve pork, you see)

    No bacon??? I’m outraged!!!/s

  6. […] (Medium rare, of course.  I’ve learned.) […]

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