Someone Save Me From Myself

I enjoyed a wonderful Mother’s Day, which included a sumptuous brunch at a local high-brow eatery. Since I’m the mom and it was my day, I decided on the venue. I chose brunch, knowing full well that I wasn’t going to be coerced into cooking dinner. Not on MY DAY, people. I also chose the fancy-schmancy digs because I’ve had their food before. It’s some of the best this major metropolitan area has to offer.

On the way down to brunch, I was entertained by the two other Demonics, Mr. and Ms. Mini-D, who used the twenty minutes in the car to complain. Mr. D remembered our last brunching experience there (back in 1999) as chaotic and crowded. Ms. Mini-D complained that her feet hurt in her new high heels. I just smiled. I was getting my brunch, dammit.

Once we arrived, they were surprised. It wasn’t so crowded (the economy is pretty sucky, who can afford brunch), and they gave us a nice little table for three. There was a live band and we had to pass by the dessert table to get to the ballroom. The smell of chocolate was heavenly and we barely made it into the main dining area.

Brunch is best tackled diplomatically. My modus operandi is to stay away from anything too heavy. I won’t do a made-to-order omelet, just because eating one takes up too much valuable stomach space. I tend to scoop up my portions in tiny little tastes, thus leaving room for more opportunities. Needless to say, (and I’m ashamed to admit this) but this list is just part of what I ate: raw oysters, shrimp cocktail, luncheon meats and cheeses, stone crab claws, Caesar salad, eggs Benedict, sushi, mozzarella and tomato salad, prime rib, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, and pasta. Of course, there was an array of desserts, which included teeny-tiny creme brulee, raspberry mousse, chocolate covered strawberries, fondue, and yummy lemon bars. I washed it all down with some good strong coffee and mimosas made with freshly squeezed orange juice and plenty of champagne.

This was not the entire brunch, but is instead a brief run down on just what I ate. There was a lot more that I didn’t even get to. There was more that I ate and forgot. I’m a foodie. I tend to recall the memorable morsels of deliciousness and the more mundane items that neglected to entertain my palate fall off the radar and into the abyss of memory loss.

After engorgement, we went home. The sky opened up and the rain was cold and relentless. We were too bloated for outside activities anyway. My dear Mr. D settled down to watch golf. Ms. Mini-D took up residence in the basement. It was too cold for me to type, so I decided to watch “Mildred Pierce” on an upstairs TV. Joan Crawford starred as the mother who did too much for her snotty, spoiled daughter. Turner Classic Movies decided to make poke fun at mothers on Mother’s Day.

By 3:30, I had dozed off. I’m thinking that cold, rainy weather and dark skies made taking a nap a viable enterprise. When I woke up at 5, I still felt like a fattened pig. I was chock full of tryptophan and champagne, and barely made it downstairs, where Mr. D was yelling at Phil Mickelson and Sergio Garcia.

“I have to go on a diet.” It was all I could say.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” He didn’t even look up. He always says that when I mention dieting.

“No, I’m serious!” I always am, but like food too much.

“Grubble, gruff, maygle…” Mr. D often mutters under his breath. I don’t have a clue what he said, but that’s what it sounded like.

I can tell he’s not going to be very helpful. I’m going to need someone else to help save me from myself.

10 Responses

  1. Happy (slightly belated) Mother’s Day to someone who brings the same culinary philosophy to brunch as I do! Now I’m hungry…

  2. Sounds delicious! I know what you mean about the complaining and all that. I thought I would be treated to being the passenger on our over two hour drive to lunch but I was wrong. I had to drive, both ways. Oh well, lunch was delicious. And all four of us were together for the first time in a while!

  3. Sigh, I’m the last person to ask for help with a diet. In my vocabulary, “diet” is a forbidden four-letter word.

  4. For Mother’s Day I got a teenager who insulted my parenting, and a preschooler who colored herself head to toe in green marker (and her wall too!) during what was supposed to be naptime (but was clearly Clandestine Coloring Time).

    So, you win. Pass the creme brulee.

  5. Now I want brunch. 😉

  6. That description of your brunch is mouth-wateringly good. Glad to hear you had fun, despite the complaining!

    For Mother’s Day I ran an 8km road race in aid of a Breast Cancer charity.

    God, that sounds unbearably smug.

    Actually, I ran it more out of a selfish need to get my ever-increasing bum moving to lose some weight than because of any strongly charitable urge. Plus, I stopped to walk at least 4 times. And I followed the race with a huge plate of eggs benedict and salmon and two soya lattes…

    Still, I felt good about it.

  7. Truce, you sound like the kind of friend I need. One who runs marathons (semi-smugly) and pokes fun at my attention to food. That’s what I truly need.

    Hmm… too bad my knees are weak. I can’t do the running thing.

  8. Ah well, I can’t claim to run marathons. 14km is the furthest I’ve ever done and it was at least 4km TOO FAR. And when I say run, its really more of a slow shuffle, with much red-faced puffing and sweating.

    But I thought of you and this post on Tuesday night – I was out at a great Portuguese restaurant here in Sydney for a friend’s birthday and he ordered a kind of tapas barbeque deal for the whole table so the meat just kept coming! Prawns, lamb, beef (2 kinds), pork, chicken… it was delicious but not exactly light. 🙂

  9. Oh, man. Don’t tempt me. I’ve heard so many other wonderful things about Australia, if I hear the food is good too, you might find me on your doorstep.

  10. I made my mother work for me on Mother’s Day, but I did take her out to dinner afterward.

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