Monday, 10 September 2012

IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY. GRAB A FORK AND LET'S GO!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOUNG MAN! 
(It's so cute that the poor bugger actually thinks he's going to get more than 
one forkful of his own cake . . . )

A friend of mine has a son who turned 30 yesterday. Which is fantastic, not just because 30 is a real milestone but also because birthdays are almost as good as weddings when it comes to excuses for a pigout. His mom, his aunt and I decided to mark his special day by taking him out to dinner at The Keg. Because it's festive and because we were really, really hungry. And in case you weren't aware, it is not possible to go to The Keg when you are really, really hungry and not make a complete sow of yourself. This was us, five minutes in:

Waitress: Would you like something to . . .
Us (in unison): YES! Nine-ounce glass!
Waitress: Uhmm . . . 
Us: Wine. WINE!
Waitress: Okay. And would you like . . .
Us: Menus! STARVING!
Waitress: (Muttering into sleeve) Security? I'm going to need backup.

After we'd received our medicinal beverages, we were able to calm down and put some thought into the menu. But everything looks good when you're hungry so in the end I just said "I'll have whatever the Birthday Boy is having," which luckily for me was the Sirloin Oscar, smothered in Bearnaise sauce, topped with shrimp, scallops and asparagus and served with mushrooms, grilled vegetables and about two pounds of garlic mashed potatoes. 

Me: OMIGOD! This is too much food!
Birthday Boy: Just do your best.
Me: I'm a very dainty eater.
Birthday Boy: Of course you are.
Me: Yeah, and could you stop hogging the butter, there, Birthday Boy? These mashed potatoes aren't going to grease themselves.

And that's pretty much how the entire night went.
The waitress was very perceptive, she noticed right away that we were the drinkin' kind of guests and kept the nine-ounces coming. We had a great time, we reminisced about the Birthday Boy's childhood and then wondered if perhaps we should order him a birthday dessert. He, being a guy, doesn't really like cake too much, which is good because he barely got a bite of it what with all the lady forks going at it. 

Afterwards, we went back to the Birthday Boy's house and continued celebrating his birthday by ignoring him while we drank coconut rum and talked about men. When I finally rolled myself home, I didn't feel quite guilty enough about the amount of food I had consumed so I Googled The Keg's nutritional information. I don't recommend this as a digestive aid, because I learned that I had just put away more calories than a woman my size should eat in an entire day. (About 1,600, not counting the wine, the bread, the butter or the cake.) So, yeah. It was pretty much the best birthday ever.

Editor's Note: I certainly hope the Birthday Boy enjoyed his special day as much as YOU did.
My note: The who? Oh! Of course he did. There was cake and everything . . .