Surf and Turf

I wasn't really sure what this clever rhyme signified until this past week, which I spent with my wife on a honeymoon on an all inclusive resort in Mexico. Every meal was a "free" gourmet affair, which lead us to all sorts of interesting palate experimentation, and me to a newfound love affair with meat. I don't usually eat that much meat, and actually I was a vegetarian for quite a while, but hey, I was in Mexico. Mmmmeat. Yum Yum Yum. Surf and Turf.

Actually, the ultra fancy long-pants-only French/Mexican fusion place we ate at most of the time called it "From the Coast to the Ranch," but at one point one of the waiters said to me, "The surf and the turf again for you my friend?" and I put two and two together pretty quickly. Sssteak. I wish I was eating some right now. And they cut and twisted all the shrimps together in this sort of mobius strip arrangement that was kind of mind boggling, but it made for a nice and hearty gordian knot to chomp through.

Not much of a dessert guy, either, but every time we went there they brought out these delicate pastry creations, all on a big tray for us to select one. At one point I found myself eating hazelnut mousse with a chocolate spoon out of a chocolate bowl shaped like a headless fat man wearing a tuxedo. When I shared this observation with my wife, she said "Yeah, I heard you say 'I ate my spoon,' and then you just stopped talking."

And man, room service was totally included, too. Nachos. In. Bed.

Back in Chicago now. I had peanut butter on a spoon for lunch today.