Last night, I met several of my friends, and friends of friends over at The Melting Pot for an evening of dining, drinking, and conversing. On Wednesday nights, they have the “Wednesday Winedown” - a fondue smorsgabord of cheeses, salads, chocolates, and wine.

Since there were 8 in our group, we had booked ahead of time and made our selections by democratic vote. Our two cheese choices were: cheddar, and spinach and artichoke. Not a fan of artichokes, I was eagerly anticipating the cheddar. No sooner did I start digging in, I hear someone talking to Billy, our server.

C: I’m allergic to garlic. Do both of these have garlic?
Billy: Uh, yeah - that’s one of the base ingredients. We can make you a plain one without it. What would you like?
C: How about traditional swiss?

(Oh yeah by the way - i HATE SWISS CHEESE. With a bloody passion.)

I’m still - very unladylike - devouring breads, veggies, and apples dunked in the cheddar fondue and thoroughly enjoying myself. The next thing I hear is that we can only have 2 cheeses on the table, and the cheddar is about to go in lieu of the swiss.

[audio:nonono.mp3]

No! Not my cheddar! As my eyes darted to the artichoke cheese, I’m thinking - please, don’t take my cheddar. But I didn’t say anything. Instead, I sat and watched as they took my beloved cheddar fondue. And, like a child who had been given a cookie and then had it taken away, I sat there dejected.

That didn’t last long once I realized it was either try another one, or sit and sulk. Wine at the ready to choke it down, I tried the spinach and artichoke cheese. Hmm. Okay. Not horrible. Not too horrible at all. But it wasn’t my cheddar. I saw Billy go by and beckoned him over.

Moi: Do you think you can bring me back some of the cheddar fondue in a small bowl?
Billy: I’m sorry - they’ve already disposed of it.
Moi: Damn. Oh well, thanks anyway.

I guess he sensed my loss, for not long after that, Billy came strolling back grinning - carrying a small bowl of cheddar cheese fondue for me! You’re the man Billy! I would’ve planted a big ol’ kiss on him but was much too focused on the fondue. The little kid in me happily dipped and ate. Did I share? Sorry, nope. (If you’ve experienced their fondues before, you’ll understand my love affair.)

Meanwhile, we have salads coming.

I don’t cook. I used to. But I did the math. And it turns out, it’s financially favorable to have someone else prepare, serve, and clean up after me and/or Nick and/or (substitute guest/s).

Yesterday (Easter Sunday) was no exception.

I woke to the heavenly scent of a honey ham baking in my kitchen. At first, I thought I was at my mom’s house in Tennessee. Then I remembered Gar (who’s visiting with us this week) and Nick were playing the roles of chef, and host, respectively. Gar said he hadn’t had a good homecooked meal in a while, so he had a feast* planned - turkey AND ham, stuffing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, cranberries, corn, crescent rolls, apple pie.

And all I had to do was just show up. And eat. And nothing else. How could anyone turn down an offer like that!

So cook they did. And eat I did. Until I couldn’t eat anymore. If you would’ve stuck a fork in me, I’d have popped like an overfull balloon and zigzagged through the sky.

Afterwards, we sat around the table. Fat. Dumb. Happy. Oh - and happily burping and farting. Yes, we are family.

Well, today, I was still feeling the effects all that food…

my pants were awfully tight!

That’ll be my last feast until Thanksgiving. Right-o!


(*I swiped pics from the web because although exceptionally and delightfully tasty, not photography-worthy.)

How cute is → this? Exceptionally creative use of cavity-laden sugary substances.

Here’s some more creative use of food items (thanks Steve). These pictures were totally constructed/styled using a variety of foodstuffs.

(hint - click on each image to view full-size)

(Disclaimer: the photographer/stylist for these is unknown - but props to whomever was the genius behind these creations!)