I'm going to Vegas in a few weeks for my birthday, staying at the Bellagio, where my best friend, Dale is a high-roller. (In college he briefly was a holy roller, but its not as fun or profitable.) I was reminiscing about another trip to Vegas a few years ago, same hotel, same best friend. We were there to see Madonna, and came in the day before. Another friend, Jason, joined us in the seafood restaurant, Aqua, I think. Some gluttony happened.
Most of you know that there's not one food I have tried that I don't like (I used to say I hated fennel, and avoided it for years. But last year Bob suggested I try it again, in the hopes that I could freely say I liked ALL food, and I likey! I will soon post a recipe for lemon marinated fennel from my brother-in-law.)
But back to the gluttony. This joint had caviar. I need you to know how much I like caviar - you know how you sign your friend's high school yearbook "stay the way you are and we'll always be friends"? That's me to caviar, but I really, really mean it. The waiter rolled a cart to the table, and heaped the black gold on one side of a scales, and "gold" ingots on the other. Ah, Vegas - I'm surprised a feather-clad showgirl didn't dance across the room at this very moment, or that Barry Manilow didn't descend from the ceiling on a glittered swing singing, "Looks Like We've Made It."
Once the waiter achieved caviar/ingot balance, he winked and added a little more beluga. I like it on a blini, little onion and lemon. And Dale and I both like a lot of it. Did I mention that as a high roller, everything you desire is on the house? Flights, cars, shows. I asked for a baby once but I don't think they heard me. So we had more caviar.
Next the menus came out, and my eyes spun in my head like a cartoon slot machine. Jackpot! Foie Gras!! My all time favorite. I ordered it, and the waiter protested, babbling something about it being a WHOLE foie gras, and I, being just one peep, couldn't possible eat it. Dale got hot. How dare that waiter try to deny me anything! Good thing be-headings are rarer in Vegas these days. I also ordered sea bass and chocolate souffle. Yes, the foie gras was my starter. OK, the caviar was technically my starter. Or maybe the amuse bouche or the ice cream I had in the lobby on the way to Aqua.
We ordered a lot of rich food. In fact, ALL the rich food. I made it halfway through the foie gras, and felt a little queasy. We were having the best time - laughing and telling old Marine Corps stories, maybe singing a little. Jason hadn't dined with us a lot, so our stories had a new audience. I felt queasier, and the bathroom was all the way outside the restaurant and all the way down a hall. So, mid-sentence, I politely held my index finger up, the universal sign for HOLD ON! and lowered my head and threw up in my napkin. No big deal - it wasn't noisy or violent, I just needed some space. The Romans did it. I popped back up, smiled, grabbed another napkin from a nearby table, picked up my fork, and attacked my sea bass.
Jason's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe it. Dale and I calmly continued our dinner, calming him down. I am still calming Jason down. Whenever I see him, he holds one finger up before saying hello.
I had the skeptical waiter wrap up the remaining foie gras, holding a finger up, silently letting him know that after gambling that night, I was going to have a lite snack of cold liver before bed. Later that night, I realized I did what I do about half the time - I had forgotten the to-go container on the table.
So if we are eating together, and I hold my finger up - don't worry. I will be right back.
Most of you know that there's not one food I have tried that I don't like (I used to say I hated fennel, and avoided it for years. But last year Bob suggested I try it again, in the hopes that I could freely say I liked ALL food, and I likey! I will soon post a recipe for lemon marinated fennel from my brother-in-law.)
But back to the gluttony. This joint had caviar. I need you to know how much I like caviar - you know how you sign your friend's high school yearbook "stay the way you are and we'll always be friends"? That's me to caviar, but I really, really mean it. The waiter rolled a cart to the table, and heaped the black gold on one side of a scales, and "gold" ingots on the other. Ah, Vegas - I'm surprised a feather-clad showgirl didn't dance across the room at this very moment, or that Barry Manilow didn't descend from the ceiling on a glittered swing singing, "Looks Like We've Made It."
Once the waiter achieved caviar/ingot balance, he winked and added a little more beluga. I like it on a blini, little onion and lemon. And Dale and I both like a lot of it. Did I mention that as a high roller, everything you desire is on the house? Flights, cars, shows. I asked for a baby once but I don't think they heard me. So we had more caviar.
Next the menus came out, and my eyes spun in my head like a cartoon slot machine. Jackpot! Foie Gras!! My all time favorite. I ordered it, and the waiter protested, babbling something about it being a WHOLE foie gras, and I, being just one peep, couldn't possible eat it. Dale got hot. How dare that waiter try to deny me anything! Good thing be-headings are rarer in Vegas these days. I also ordered sea bass and chocolate souffle. Yes, the foie gras was my starter. OK, the caviar was technically my starter. Or maybe the amuse bouche or the ice cream I had in the lobby on the way to Aqua.
We ordered a lot of rich food. In fact, ALL the rich food. I made it halfway through the foie gras, and felt a little queasy. We were having the best time - laughing and telling old Marine Corps stories, maybe singing a little. Jason hadn't dined with us a lot, so our stories had a new audience. I felt queasier, and the bathroom was all the way outside the restaurant and all the way down a hall. So, mid-sentence, I politely held my index finger up, the universal sign for HOLD ON! and lowered my head and threw up in my napkin. No big deal - it wasn't noisy or violent, I just needed some space. The Romans did it. I popped back up, smiled, grabbed another napkin from a nearby table, picked up my fork, and attacked my sea bass.
Jason's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe it. Dale and I calmly continued our dinner, calming him down. I am still calming Jason down. Whenever I see him, he holds one finger up before saying hello.
I had the skeptical waiter wrap up the remaining foie gras, holding a finger up, silently letting him know that after gambling that night, I was going to have a lite snack of cold liver before bed. Later that night, I realized I did what I do about half the time - I had forgotten the to-go container on the table.
So if we are eating together, and I hold my finger up - don't worry. I will be right back.
Oh Aqua is...mmmmm...We had a nice 4 hour meal there a few years back. I think I may have even had the Sea bass (its one of my favorites). Where do you put all of that food Greggie?! Oh wait, you just explained that! ::holding up my index finger::
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