One of the few things that Veronica and I have been passingly fighting about over the last several years is the fact that she has gone to SEVERAL all you can eat meat places without me. Â Normally she tries to come up with an excuse after, like I wasnâ€™t in the same state, that someone else took her, or something else she tries to consider â€œvalid.â€ But the truth is it all sounds hallow and I am pretty sure that she just thought that I would make a giant fool of myself and possibly end up dying. Â Well the joke is on her, because after three years of constantly wearing her down I finally got her to go with me â€“ the same tactic that worked to get her to marry me.
One of the first things that I should point out is that approaching the meat mecca is that it smells like pig roast, which is probably the highest praise that you can give something. Â Also, it is just part of the mall, which is kind of weird because it is sort of a higher class joint and not along the same lines of Auntie Anneâ€™s or Hooters. Veronica thought it was interesting because the walls were glass panes that had slits between them that you could slip meat to the people outside. Â I commented that someone might be able to let her sip out of some of their Orange Julius, she said that we should go there for after dinner treats. I love her but good judgment isnâ€™t always strong with her.
Part of the package is a â€œsaladâ€ bar. Â I use the quotes the same way that people probably used them when they first started calling it a bar. Â I am sure that there were several vegetables that you could find if you looked, but I am pretty sure those are just there so they know who to ask to leave. Â From my picture I can tell you I grabbed sushi, which I would never do again, the salmon, which was forgettable but good, the shrimp salad, which was a weird deathtrap designed by an evil science PhD candidate, and several kinds of amazing salted meats.
Side note: Â Veronica and I have been trying to cut way back on salt intake for various reasons. Â At the start of the evening I basically told her that bringing that up was going to defeat the entire purpose of being here. Â She was kind enough to listen.
There is a temperature that I use to describe food called â€œVeronica hot,â€ which roughly translates to, â€œburns the flesh off the inside of your mouth, OMG HOW DO YOU EAT THIS BABE!â€ Â This is important because all food in the world needs to be served to her hot or she will complain about it. If she comments about it being too hot, I normally need to make sure the dish it is on isnâ€™t melting.
The lobster bisque was Veronica hot. Â I mainly bring this up because by the time that mine had cooled down enough for me to taste anything she had already decided she didnâ€™t like it. Â In her defense it was the richest thing that I had ever tasted in my life. It managed to coat my mouth with a not unpleasant film that remained after a sip of water. Â My main complaint was there wasnâ€™t really lobster in it, so that was upsetting. We also just might have not scooped any out.
But the real reason we were there, the meat. Â There are round cards on the table that you flip over whenever you want someone walking around with a giant skewer of meat to stop at your table and offer you something. I was informed to not abuse this power, as I would quickly be overrun with nameless people asking if I would like some amazing cuts of freshly cooked joy. Â As you can tell, that was all I had ever wanted in my entire life.
That never happened. Â I always managed to clear the meat before the next guy showed up. Â So, yeah.
The fillet mignon was amazing. Â The only time I have ever had anything cooked that well was when my father cooked it, which is a complaint I donâ€™t give out. Â It was tender and juicy. It broke apart easily as I put any kind of pressure to it. When I put it in my mouth I held Veronicaâ€™s hand to keep me stable. Â I had found my happy place.
There were tons of those kinds of meats, and I did really try them allâ€”several times. Â The only one that I didnâ€™t remember liking was the chicken wrapped in bacon. It just seemed super plain. Â Basically, like something I could have done. I donâ€™t know if I was more upset that they didnâ€™t do anything magical with the chicken or that bacon had somehow managed to let me down. Both kinds of lamb were good, the other cuts of meat were amazing, I skipped out on the sausage because it just seemed too heavy at the one exact moment the guy offered it to me.
At one point, towards the end, I was talking to veronica about how full I was and asking if we should call it a night after being there for an hour. Â Out of nowhere a man walks up next to me and asks me if I would like a piece of flank steak directly from the oven. I responded, without thinking:
â€œSee, this guy gets me!â€ Â She made us leave shortly after.