Good morning, one and all. I trust you had a magnificent weekend, full of debauchery and Olympics and snow and hot chocolate and naps and veal cutlet (not necessarily in that order). Good. Very good. But now it’s Monday, and you’re back in the swing, getting things swung, or at least on the road to a modest interpretation of swinging. And I know that all this weekend, no matter what else you were doing, you were thinking, “Is she finally going to reveal what the hell that … that … that thing was in that stomach-clenching entry entitled ‘What Is It?’? Or is she going to make us suffer and guess until all eternity, and never reveal its identity? Would she could she be such an insufferable bitch?”
Well, no. Of course not. I may like to cause deep psychic pain in the weaker of you, but only for limited periods of time. I would never want to cause serious, lingering, all-encompassing, life-threatening damage. At least not online.
So, anyway. Before I present the identity of the mystery item, I want to thank all of you on your contributions those who made me clutch my viscera in disgust and those who made me lick my lips in hunger. Although I said I would allow comments until Friday, I had a secret agreement with myself that I would keep accepting them until the number of comments reached 25.* And lo and behold, the Universe must have been listening to my silent pleas, because the 25th comment contained an answer that I would be willing to accept if I were a game show host and the answer bestowed upon its supplier a valuable prize.
That comment, from “lise”, was this:
It looks like a piece of barbeque roasted duck/chicken/you name the poultry…. ala chinatown (your NYC or my Vancouver)”
Here’s what it was:
Click for a larger than life experience
(Seriously, it’s like IMAX)
Lise’s guess was close enough. What it really is is SPONTANEOUS POULTRY that magically appeared on my and Kyria’s** plates when we went out for Indian food at the end of January. One minute we were two kooky kids gabbing about hemlines and hairdos, and the next we were two kooky kids rubbing elbows with tandoori. Although we were delighted with the magic (so much that we clapped our flippers like seals), we were a little put off that an Indian restaurant, a popular destination for many a vegetarian, would so brashly place poultry on the plates of potential non-carnivores. And on top of naan!
“I will have naan of this!” I said, and caused what I can only describe to you as “quite a scene”.
But not before devouring two plates of this.
* I just closed the comments on that entry. There are 26, including two of mine, which technically I should not “count”, but which I found I had been including in my quasi-official count, so the comment count stands as explained here. If I wanted to be a purist, I would only count 24 of those 26 comments, and thus the so-called 25th comment would really be the 23rd, but but buuuut buuuut b-b-b-bbbaaawwwkk!! Bbbbaaa–aawww-w-aawwwk!!
** I forgot to mention that I have been guest-blogging for Kyria while she’s in Spain with her fiancé. Check it out! I am just as engaging and hilarious on her turf as I am on mine.