Ode to gluttony

On Saturday night, at a gathering of friends and neighbors for a birthday celebration, we enjoyed a six-course meal prepared for us by a personal chef in a personal home. Unfortunately it was not OUR personal chef in OUR personal home, nor was it something that takes place on a regular basis, but we're choosing to "believe that the impossible can happen."


Not that six-course meals are anything new to us, if you count a glass of water, a fork, and a napkin as three courses. But during this meal, each course consisted of some delectable combination of food, which the chef described to us as the course was brought out. This description typically required him to use his hands in quick yet precise gestures, and included words I personally did not always recognize, such as "beets." But everything was so outstanding that he could have told us the food was taken straight from Oscar's garbage can, and we would have eaten everything just as happily.


During the final course, one attendee became convinced that she had been transported to Heaven, consisting of a spoon and a chocolaty-orange concoction. While not exactly the biblical description of Heaven, the dessert -- as well as the entire meal -- nevertheless did seem otherworldly, and one we are eager to experience again. Just as soon as we can get up off the couch where we have been recuperating ever since.


As we were all about to slip into a comatose state in our chairs after dessert, it was announced that we should not leave just yet -- as if we were physically capable of doing so -- because there was "more." The "more" turned out not to be the personal weight loss and fitness trainers we all sorely needed at that point, but individually wrapped chocolate-filled croissants weighing in at approximately seven million calories each. These, we were told, were "for the next day." This immediately negated our promise that we would never touch -- nay, never LOOK at -- food ever again.


Even the Hero, who is not supposed to eat anything with gluten in it and who is generally pretty good at sticking to this, instantly came under the spell of the chocolate croissant. He declared it "not dripping with gluten," thereby rendering it within his diet. 


Since we all willingly and eagerly participated in this gluttony, we fully deserved any ill effects we may have suffered from our actions. Further, we would be quite happy to do it all over again.


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In other food-related news, astonishingly we ate MORE food at home the very next day. Part of that day's meal was a quinoa and vegetable pilaf, which I made from a mix. Permit me to share the final instructions on the bag, which made me wonder whether I would need some industrial-strength tool: 


"After cooking, mix with work, and serve warm."


And now, back to my croissant. If the Hero hasn't eaten it.