Text 20792, 60 rader
Skriven 2007-09-30 08:50:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: dialysis days 205
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Last week
Another amusing lunch, taken for the same reason at
another struggling restaurant: Brasserie Monte Carlo,
also walking distance from the dialysis center. We've
been there a few times because my brother won't eat
at La Miche, the other Frenchish place on the block,
as he thinks the onion soup at La Miche tastes like
chlorine. Anyhow, it's not exceptionally well populated,
and the proprietor is very earnest, and the food is
pretty fair. I ordered roast chicken in a mustard cream
sauce - what one might call a "restaurant half chicken"
- drumstick, thigh without the backbone part (chef gets
the oyster, stockpot gets the rest), breast minus the
keel (stockpot) and the tender (chef), with the wing
drumstick attached (rest goes into the stockpot). Not
a very big chicken, either. The mustard sauce was very
creamy, had some good stock reduction, and the mustard
itself, though Dijon, not too sour. A glass of the house
Cabernet accompanied - an insignificant Pays d'Oc that
the place charged me $8 for, for which I bet the
restaurant gets 2 bottles. There was only one other
table occupied when I got there, but actually a couple
outside tables filled up during my meal. The proprietor
waited and bussed all the tables, meanwhile interviewing
a cute young would-be waitress in the corner. H'm. On
my paying the bill and leaving, the guy bowed me out with
a "hope we see you again soon, Doctor," which is the kind
of behavior I've tried to avoid encountering for the last
forty years and a factor (not the key, which was that I
hate to get up in the morning) in why I didn't pursue
either a medical or a heavy academic career.

This week
Yet another amusing lunch, same parameters. Walked down
to get a cervical collar for the old man (he is having
trouble holding up his head), and on the way back I
found a sports bar that is known for its burgers, Tommy
Joe's on Montgomery Avenue, one block up and one block
over from dialysis. Perched myself at the bar, had a
Yuengling, which was refreshing on a warm day. Got the
burger rare, and it was an irregular but mechanically
flattened 10-ozer, nicely rare, moderately fatty chuck,
on an excellent roll. I started cutting the burger up
and eating it with my knife and fork, which got the
attention of the bartender, so I explained that I was
taking little bites as my wisdom tooth was bothering
me, whereupon he poured me a double Jim Beam on the
house, thereby ensuring a repeat customer. Back at the
center the other waiting nurses and attendants told me
they'd hoped I'd had a good meal, carefully ignoring
the fact that I was breathing Bourbon fumes on them.
Unfortunately, my father was basically unconscious
the whole time, waking only enough to cry out for me.
It's getting kind of touch and go, but I hope the old
man does last out to 90.


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