i remember accompanying my dad on a two-martini lunch at his favorite spot, a bar and grill near Goddard Space Flight Center. i was probably 12 or so. it was utterly inappropriate, but to this day i've never had better steak fries. perfectly crisp and golden on the outside, meltingly delectable on the inside. i forget the name of the place, but it was a grubby little building right off 450 in New Carrollton, near the Gould building. it's probably been demolished to put in overpriced condos by now.
but honestly, i'm quite bothered by the American demonization of alcohol over the last 20 years or so. i like to drink -- that admission alone is enough to make people look askance at me -- and it actually kind of offends me that indulging myself with half a bottle of wine is somehow terrible because by default i drink alone. of course i drink alone -- i live alone, and i don't socialize much. wine with dinner is a lovely thing. if i were going out to dinner in fancy restaurants every night and sharing a bottle of wine with some fabulous guy over dinner, people would say "you go, girl!", but if i do the same thing alone in my apartment, i have a "problem"? give me a break, man. (and it's much, much worse in California. everyone is so goddamn health-conscious here that even on a big evening out most people won't indulge themselves with anything that might be fattening or unhealthy. poo on them, i say. POO!)
i admit it, i'm a hedonist. a voluptuary. a sybarite. and i'm... well, okay, i'm still a bit ashamed, but i'm working on that. goddamned post-puritanism.
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but honestly, i'm quite bothered by the American demonization of alcohol over the last 20 years or so. i like to drink -- that admission alone is enough to make people look askance at me -- and it actually kind of offends me that indulging myself with half a bottle of wine is somehow terrible because by default i drink alone. of course i drink alone -- i live alone, and i don't socialize much. wine with dinner is a lovely thing. if i were going out to dinner in fancy restaurants every night and sharing a bottle of wine with some fabulous guy over dinner, people would say "you go, girl!", but if i do the same thing alone in my apartment, i have a "problem"? give me a break, man. (and it's much, much worse in California. everyone is so goddamn health-conscious here that even on a big evening out most people won't indulge themselves with anything that might be fattening or unhealthy. poo on them, i say. POO!)
i admit it, i'm a hedonist. a voluptuary. a sybarite. and i'm... well, okay, i'm still a bit ashamed, but i'm working on that. goddamned post-puritanism.