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Smooth(ie) Criminal

October 19, 2009

Last night I went to dinner, alone – something I have never minded.  I do not understand the stigma of the solo diner.  Is it sad?  I don’t think so.  I enjoy my own company and my trashy gossip magazines inserted between the pages of an already-read Harper’s magazine. I don’t think I should have to stay home when I want someone else to cook and takeout is never an appealing option. If anything it’s the opposite of sad – it’s a celebration of self worth – or it can be, at least.

For some time now when I want to have a solo decent I-didn’t-cook-it-myself meal I will head to Midtown Café because it’s close and they do not pipe-in ridiculous music.  It is blessedly quiet, abuzz only with the murmurs of happy conversation and hushed mastication. I can have a glass of wine and make a meal of their vegetable sides and they are always accommodating of my desire for olive oil instead of butter and will even steam instead of  sautee – depending on my mood.  These are professionals and they know their clientele – a fact which, under normal circumstances, is laudable, but when you are willfully “cheating” on your diet not so much.

You see, they know me and they have, apparently, deduced that I am a vegan or at least a vegetarian so when I ordered seared ahi tuna last night I was met with a slight gasp and a mini-barrage of questions.

“But, wait aren’t you vegetarian …or….?” I take their visible confusion for nosiness and it is, because why should they care?  Small talk for the sake of small talk – can’t they see I am reading about the decline of the American newspaper (really, about Jennifer Aniston back with John Mayer)? 

I am mad because I have been caught – caught red handed, or red ahi-ed as the case may be.

It’s fucking fish – healthy, cancer fighting, Omega-3 fatty acid rich, sushi grade deliciousness and I am feeling chocolate éclair sized guilt….so I ordered key lime pie for dessert too. 

Key Lime Pie is practically a fruit smoothie, right?

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