He took me to a restaurant where only ONE of those is not the actual name of a dish.
As trendy vegetarian experiences go, it wasn't half-bad, and, if pressed, drawn, quartered, and forced to swear on a stack of bibles THIS HIGH, it was actually pretty delicious.
Just typing that made me realize that I'm turning into one of those people. One of THOSE people. You know the people that I mean. People who order something called "Ten Thousand Buddha's" without batting an eyelash. People who enjoy, and I mean really ENJOY, a strictly vegetarian meal.
He's making me into a Californian, is what I'm saying, and despite every part of my hog, cow, and chicken murdering intuitions.... it was really, really good.
I basically ate a tree for dinner, is what I'm saying. A delicious, delicious tree.
I'm pretty sure that the "bread" was made of "bark".
But it really was awesomely good.
Then R and I settled down to watch "Jekyll", which is the best Stephen Moffat series you haven't seen yet. And we had his magnificent popcorn, with just a TOUCH of truffle salt.
I'm in love with California: the people, the food, and, most of all, the ability to do something completely foreign to me every day. Life is short, so you might as well spend it hanging out with AWESOME, no?
That is what we call (say it with me):