February 20, 2011
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The Dining Room
Buffets incite the same mixture of feelings within me as savage most-pit slam-dancing in front of the stage, so close you can see up the band’s noses – immense trepidation and morbid excitement.
It’s the kind where you can’t decide if you should refrain from joining in the party since being molecularly smashed against other people isn’t very appealing, or if you should dive right in since you already paid to enter.
What a star diver I used to be.
The staggering, inebriated shuffling out of restaurants after too much of, well, everything was even funny. It was hilarious! There’s no better way to deal with pain than to laugh it out (but then of course there were times when I couldn’t even laugh since my stomach took up all the space left for my lungs to expand).
Then I would just feel like an imbecile. I mean, is there any higher form of depravity than paying to be one chocolate-fondue-coated-banana-chunk away from going kablooey-kasplat?
Sautéed Vegetables. Braised Lamb.
Somewhere along the years, I eventually got into my thick head that the stomach isn’t as expandable as I thought it was, that 3 servings of durian pengat, 2 ice cream waffles and pudding really wasn’t going to fit in with the orgy of seafood, meats and copious amounts of clogging carbohydrates. Boy what a revelation that was. That was a hypothetical scenario by the way, to put my wanton gluttony into perspective for you.
Therefore I am pleased to announce that The Dining Room is my first buffet that no one has had to wheel me out on a gurney. No crutches, no rolling. I walked. Huzzah!
And every single buffet item was good. Read more of this post