Strapping On The Feedbag

I have just returned from lunch in the Big City with some friends at Chat n' Chew on 16th Street. I hate the name of this place as it makes me think of someone talking and chewing at the same time, which generally turns out to be an unpleasant thing to witness. Still, I think the food at Chat n' Chew is generally really good so I find myself getting over the name of the place just shortly after sitting down every time I go there, which isn't all that often, but hopefully you see my point.

This time around at Chat n' Chew (a restaurant whose name I am also finding unpleasant to even type) I had a bowl of lobster bisque (not a usual choice for me, but I was feeling randy), meatloaf (it's officially called "Not Your Mother's Meatloaf," which seems to imply that my mother's meatloaf is bullshit or something. It's not! F*cker. In the interest of full disclosure, however, my daddy usual did the meatloaf-making in my house when I was growing up. He just had a way with it.), mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a chocolate milk shake. It was delicious. However, I would strongly urge you not to do as I have done. I need to take a nap now. And then maybe have my stomach pumped. All of those items on their own make for good times, but put them all together and you've got a situation on your hands. Trust me on this one.

That is all for now.

Dave Hill