Forgive meat, Father

Dish 120: Carne Asada at Lolita, on on 13th just north of Sansom,

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

I meant to take one bite of this steak and hand it over to Brian. It started slow, I picked up the twisted plaintain chip and dipped it in the smear of guac; then a little nibble of spicy potato, hot, and tender, then just a tiny hunk of meat. I don’t even really like steak. But this one was as thick as your wrist… the wide way… and it was so tender, not a thread of gristle. I sank my teeth in and the juices burst in my mouth, racing over my tongue and begging me to take just one more bite. The bites started out small and accelerated, and I couldn’t stop, they grew from a sliver of flesh to a hunk slathered in smoky cheesy decadent sauce, and they grew further until they were nearly too big to take in one bite. And then it was all over, and I sat back and languished in the humid air of euphoric contentment.


 Admittedly, this steak was the sexiest dish I have encountered thus far. My dad has expounded at length on how humans are meant to eat meat because our teeth are those of omnivores– we have incisors to tear and molars to crush. And our digestive systems are made to break down meat, and our bodies require iron, and all that good stuff. And resist as I might and though I may find it unnecessary and even distasteful at times- sometimes my heart pains for meat and my muscles crave it, for the fibrous, satisfying, body-filling  indulgence and overwhelming satisfaction. And those are the moments when I am most glad that I resist it when I can; such that each bite is blindingly exquisite when I desire it most.

Wikipedia, Food Porn:

Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov


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