"... and on the way back you ask your waitress — the one with the tattoo of the meat cleaver on her grass-fed bicep — if she wants to go to a steakhouse on her night off."
A fine last sentence to an essay by Tom Junod called "The Death of the Entrée," published in the "Eat Like a Man" section of Esquire.
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24 comments:
Well, a good steakhouse or a good sushi place never disappoints.
WTF is a grass fed bicep?
WTF is a grass fed bicep?
This, I think.
"WTF is a grass fed bicep?"
It's something for you to think about until this writer's capacity for language expands your capacity to think and to feel.
Chip's answer is better. I figured it had to do with grass fed beef.
I mostly am not focusing on women's biceps so much as their more uniquely feminine charms.
Cad!
He does make some very good points. My favorite parts were the paprika smoked by the chef in his back yard and the crab apple from the tree in front of the restaurant.
I liked it aside from the cheating part. (I'm assuming it's cheating; he doesn't make his relationship status with his "girl" perfectly clear.)
Cheating calls to mind weakness, and weakness does not call to mind manly.
It just occurred to me:
Isn't it odd that Google, which offers so much user friendly functionality, requires one to write HTML code to format text? I've been writing HTML code since I was a teenager. That's an eon in computer time. I'm surprised to still be at it.
I liked it aside from the cheating part.
I read it as the author looking for a date with someone who, being fully aware of haute cuisine, would appreciate a good steak. If he's in a LTR with the woman he's dining with, then it's pretty clearly on life support. I suppose he could dump his date on the spot before asking out the waitress, but it's not clear that would be nobler.
BTW, how did "entree" come to mean "main course"? It makes no sense.
So after all the artificiality of the painfully contrived food and the superficial brittle relationship with his pretentious, sublimely appointed impeccable, yet somehow fake, girlfriend.......
what a guy really wants is a nice zaftig, farm bred girl, a good steak and some sex.
Oh....and some scotch of course :-)
I didn't get the impression that he had any intention of dumping his "girl."
This guy does realize that most people can't afford to go to places like that these days, right?
Hell, it's so bad Friendly's has filed for Chapter 11 and Olive Garden is thinking about it.
Paul said...
WTF is a grass fed bicep?
I think he means anemic.
When you think of robust, comely Midwestern farm girls, the adjective is corn-fed - Herefords are similarly described.
I think Trooper York is writing under an alias.
This guy does realize that most people can't afford to go to places like that these days, right?
Esquire is written by and for the One-Percenters. They would only go to the Olive Garden ironically.
I think Trooper York is writing under an alias.
You mean "Trooper York" is his real name???
BTW, he's missed a couple of chances to bloviate about the fuckin' Yankees lately. I hope ARod's suckitude wasn't the death of him.
Of course the tattooed waitress is also the hairless tattooed waitress. God damn it.
Peter
@ edutcher-
Grass-fed beef is supposed to be more organic, artisanal and other hipster buzzwords. The waitress is supposed to be hipster who eats red meat but only the PC kind.
Of course the tattooed waitress is also the hairless tattooed waitress. God damn it.
Unless her cultivation of "grass fed" biceps means that she also cultivates a grassy knoll.
Grassfed is a way to have your meat and eat it too.
Reminded me of Rosie.
Thought you didn't like fiction? Thought it was a waste of time?
Best comment following the article -
Simeon Dimitri
I'd love to discuss, but I'm eating my waitress' entree.
I don't like to be served too much to eat. Most places in fly over country take pride in that.
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