Preemptive Lonestar steak out
Spiralling
Outside the hour, with wisps of rainy dirt catching the beige, appetizers knock out the four already there. Early intervention with disregard to swilling the empty can of nothing is only on hindsight, lingering in a dipping sauce. Stomach skin heats up good the aluminium can, at least to the point where the fizz rips the nose softly so.
Cutting down seconds to scan the slightly sticky menu, another round of attack at the Big T Steak. Alternative selections not sliding in fast enough between the medium rare and Mexican dressing options. Sweet potatoes in a salmon guise later and it's a return to the old with the familiar cudding and chewing of the meat. Heavy, the bone fattens up with a shot of mucus gravy and surprisingly little is burnt out.
Taking over another plate, for the sheer lack of wait, the spare ribs show up in poorly dry fashion. Draining out all flavour and sumptuous texture, it leaves a mop tasting session to lick off the fibres of utter disdain and lack of cohesion. Ribs from a cow with the feel of chicken and the strength of rubber mixing in with an aroma of soap. Better luck next time.
Burning gunpowder and the sparkles of the mudslide shoots through the attention of one of the snappy clappers as they look into the open tab of a Dr Pepper on the table top. Questions abound and the reflection of taste appears in the conversation again.
Points down on the chocolate and ice cream chugging round, cramming all the dessert nearly breaks up and out. Holding steady is a struggle of a wincing ordeal, careful not to breathe too quick lest it all speaks of volumes.
Soon Van - Wednesday, 7 February 2007 - 23:01
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Previous entries on Spiralling
- Choose life
- Melbourne makes with the matrimonial merry
- Cracker jack morning vision
- Stringing out a sense of space
- White Masai on a trapeze
- Paranoia is locking out the shoulder
