Husband’s note and mea culpa: This post is overdue…long overdue. The dinner in question took place more than a month and a half ago, and my (much) better half diligently scribed her thoughts right away. In the interim, He Said/She Said operations have been crippled (as far as she knows) by a strike. According to a source close to the situation (me) our I.T. staff read some crap about the Google employee benefits package and got a bunch of crazy notions about how we should be more ‘strategic’ in our ‘talent management.’
‘If you have a blog,’ they said, ‘you didn’t build that.’ Given that, as mentioned before, our entire I.T. staff consists of a pair of ne’er-do-well Boston Terriers, and that said terriers are in fact not a part of any federally protected class, I fired them both on the spot (I like being able to fire dogs who work for me). No severance, chew toys, or dog biscuits. The result being that I now have to do all the tedious formatting, coding, and other high-tech whatever all by myself.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Insert meat quote here. Over the past year or so I have significantly increased my meat intake. Until then I could have easily seen myself as a partial-vegetarian. I say partial because I really do love seafood. If beef, pork or chicken didn’t touch my lips another day in my life I don’t think they would have been missed.
Steve likes meat though. And we decided to buy a share in a cow. So these two things have significantly altered my overall meat intake over the past several months. Sure bacon is awesome. But it is one of those rare things to me that smells better than it tastes. (I have a feeling @HeSaidSheSaidNO is likely to see a significant reduction in twitter followers based on this statement). Duck confit is probably my favorite meat. Steak? forget about it. Until the other night that is when we cooked up some of our steer’s t-bones. Those were oddly beefy, like no other steak I can remember. And I really enjoyed them. I digress.
7:30 pm on a random Wednesday night I get a text: “Have you been to Toups Meatery?” It’s my dad. What the heck is he asking me about a new place in Mid-City for? It is well outside of the Kenner/Metairie border. I respond immediately, “no, but I hear it is very good.” After a 10 minute delay I receive the following: “beat you to it.” What? Dad? This can’t be happening. I’ll admit, I am a bit competitive and never before have I had my father contending as the more happening half of the father/daughter relationship. Continue reading