The Morning After (or My Night with the Cowboy)

26 Mar

I could just as easily title this post “The Blog of Shame.” I had a bit of a wild time last night. I’d been craving red meat for the last few days. I try to eat cow as little as possible. I gave it up entirely a while back but when I started this triathlon nonsense I found myself craving it intensely and I do my best to listen to my body when it tells me it wants something that has some nutritive value. And really good beef does have nutritive value.

So when I eat red meat now, I like to eat the really good stuff. Since I don’t have a ton of money to spend on the really good stuff, I only eat it once or twice a month. But last night, I went out to dinner. I went out to dinner with a large group and on someone else’s dime. When I asked the waiter which steak I wanted, he told me, without hesitation, that I had to have the Cowboy. Well, I mean, of course.

People who know me know me as a gal who has a thing for cowboys. Really, what gal doesn’t? Cowboy in this instance, however, is just another name for a bone-in (yeah, yeah bone-in with the cowboy, you’re hilarious) rib eye (which, depending on your country of original is either redundant OR a contradiction–but I digress).

At Jaguar, they cook their cowboy on a grill and serve it really simply with a tiny side of pico de gallo. I scammed a little chimichurri off my friend’s churasco too and that–my gums are itching just writing this all down–was too delicious for words. Like all cowboys though, this one was massive and I couldn’t handle it all in one sitting. I will make at least two more meals out of that bad boy.

After my dalliance with the steak, I felt so good, so unapologetically carnivorous and gluttonous and free, that I didn’t blink when the waiter asked about dessert. I wasn’t the only one drunk on deliciousness. My party (of 5 total, including me) came to collective conclusion that we needed to order five desserts.  The waiter warned us that they were all huge but we just HAD to try everything. We sampled a super moist chocolate cake baked into a ramekin with vanilla ice cream on top; a caramel cheesecake with toasted almonds; a traditional Peruvian crepe filled with cream and bananas and covered with this ridiculous burnt caramel; a key lime creme brulee; and a tres leches bread pudding with candied carrots as garnish. We almost finished everything. It was horrifying.

If you’ve been following this blog, then you know I’ve been kinda bummed lately, dwelling on all the things I can’t eat anymore because of the headaches. But I realized yesterday, it isn’t that I can’t eat them–it’s just that if I do I will be miserable. And I have to weigh the brief but utterly real satisfaction that comes from eating something delicious but bad for me vs. the discomfort that will follow. Bikram Butterflies dropped a great post this morning about this very dillema.

But I’d been good all week, charting every freaking thing I put into my system via this damned migraine diary and I decided to opt for potential morning misery over making the wise, healthy decision. Why? Because life is fu*king short. And I never eat desert anymore and these deserts looked awesome and this is my last chance to indulge until after Nautica and I’m going to be eating super clean food all week and I’d already gotten in deep with cowboy so why not just finish this thing for real and blah blah blah all the excuses in the book.

And how do I feel this morning? Pretty much as I would had I actually spent the night with a cowboy. Hungover. Though I should mention, I didn’t actually consume a DROP of booze. And still, I feel congested, foggy, headachy, confused. I vaguely remember having a really good time but at the expense of my mental and physical well-being. I was seduced by the cowboy and now in the cold light of morning, I realize it was all a sham.

We’ll see what the afternoon brings. After I pump myself full of Advil and fluids; shower the stench of the grill off my body, try to forget about what I’ve done. As if that’s even possible. Am I regretful? No. Just a little bit wiser and well fed.


2 Responses to “The Morning After (or My Night with the Cowboy)”

  1. Mark March 27, 2012 at 2:52 pm #

    I think this is my favorite post so far…

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