8/11/2013

Cocky is as cocky does...

How proud am I to ask for the tobasco at a brasserie and have the waitress look at me like I'm crazy. How I smirked when I asked the guy making my street-side crepe to add more hot sauce. How confidently I ate every bite of the smoked pork which had marinated in all sorts of pepper seasonings for a day while the rest of the family fanned their mouths.

As Justin Timberlake once sang, what goes around goes around goes around comes all the way back around...

in the form of beef tartar. That's raw beef.

The Texas stomach could take a bullet if it's made of pepper (or beer) but apparently if I were the great, mighty Achilles, we'd all be calling that tendon our raw beef heel. Because, it took me down, hard.

No details but T+4 days and I'm still not fully recovered. Ah how the mighty have fallen. Ah how I cower with my tail between my legs. Ah how my toilet laughs every time I run toward it. It's that evil French laugh too, I just know it. You know that one. Haw-haw-haw!

Brief: don't eat a full plate of beef tartar by yourself. Share it with the table. Either the amount is little enough to not affect you all or at least you'll be in the same boat. Though I hope that boat has more than 1 toilet and a lot of Febreze.

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