Dear Good People,
It is with a mildly heavy heart that I announce this post will most likely be rugged with no defined plot. I take responsibility for it. I was distracted by a girl. She shot me off tangent when I should’ve been drafting my story.
Then I got glued on to that rectangular device in my apartment watching Money Heist. I snacked on paprika flavored potato chips. The fire alarm on the building I live in went off that same evening. I ran out and bang! went the door behind me. I’d locked myself out. So I called the House Manager and waited for him to open for me once the fire fighters – who’d showed up in five minutes after the alarm was triggered – had switched off the noise.
What triggered the alarm? A donut had gone suicidal at the bakery on the ground floor. There was no fire, just smoke.
I kept watching Money Heist and shoving my writing plan to the back.
Then our boss hosted us for dinner at his finest restaurant. He served us two types of wines: Nebbiolo d’Alba and Rosso di Montalcino. I had octopus for a starter and a mix of different fish types for my main course. One of those on the plate was half cooked tuna. It didn’t appeal to my taste buds. That doesn’t beat what my one of my colleagues ordered. He asked for a tartare.
That’s exquisite food, one that you eat with full respect for the dish. Tartare is raw meat. So I ate some of his raw meat and felt my stomach churn. I didn’t do what you might think I did. I kept it all in.
To wash down everything and clear my throat, I was served Marcati Grappa Il Bacio Delle Muse (Kiss from the Muse) Riserva Magnum. This is brandy that’ll make you forget the Brandy who sang Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
I now know a few things about fine dining.