Manly Men Eating Bloody Beef
You Can Shove Your Salad Up Your Tailpipe...
I had a bit of a rebellion yesterday evening.
The workday was more strained than most. Overall I don't mind being outnumbered by women in the workplace, but there are times when it's more rewarding to strategically rearrange your ballsack, call a useless cocksucker a got-damned useless cocksucker to his face, and then chuck him out on his ass. Instead, we ended up sitting in a sewing circle playing another endless round of Estrogenal Consensus and Validation. I swear to FSM all you need to do to cross the line with these harpies is to cast a disapproving glance at your own lunch, and they'll be lobbying The Man to have you sentenced to attend mandatory Diversity training for a week.
Anyway, adding to the stress, I've been eating lots of salads for the past month. I've come to the realization that unless my waistline hits a high-water mark and begins to recede, my health problems are going to be a bit more complicated than elevated blood pressure and A1C levels.
I just couldn't face another bowl of rabbit food after the day I'd had, though...
So, off to the Hofbrau Steakhouse. Actually, it's mostly a Salt Grass Steakhouse now. They took over the old Hofbrau on Shepherd earlier in the year, but they'll still cook your steak on a slab of red-hot iron, as opposed to burning it on a gas grill like at most Salt Grass establishments.
It's a small place, only seats 90 or so. Lots of dead animal heads hanging on the wall, not a fern or Tiffany lampshade in sight.
Parking is always a problem due to the small lot and close proximity to Shepherd, but I bounced my 4x4 up over a curb to grab a spot right by the door. As I was shutting the truck down, a Hummer pulled in next to me, and a Ford Expedition slid in on the other side of me. Not a got-damned treehugger Prius or metrosexual Mini Cooper in sight. This was a good indicator for a manly meal in my immediate future!
Inside was a welcome aroma of cooked animal flesh and fermented grains. I wouldn't have been averse to a whiff of cigar smoke, but the Nanny Staters have denied us that pleasure at steakhouses. Fucktards...
My server was pleasingly plump, with a muffin top and a good amount of junk in the trunk, and was flirtatious to boot. I reset my vocabulary from Office Neuter to Low Hanging Pair. I'm old & wise enough to realize that she's angling for a nice tip, not jonesing for my schvantz, so I can enjoy the banter without having to worry about closing the deal later.
The New York Strip was just how I liked it, just 30 seconds past medium rare, and still oozing some pink juices. The meat was trimmed exactly right, leaving enough tasty fat alongside the steak to lubricate each mouthful, but not so much you feel like you ate a mouthful of beef tallow. The garlic mashed potatoes and the stewed mushrooms were a flavorful pair of side dishes.
Dessert offerings, alas, were the same tired mix of cheesecake, Death By Chocolate cake, and gooey fudgy brownie. After a manly meal like that, I don't want a heavy sweet. Just a bit of berries and zabaglione, maybe a lemon mousse? Perhaps even a poached pear?
No cigars allowed, so I passed on the after-dinner scotch. With iced tea and Caesar salad, it came to $35 plus tip. Best $35 I've spent in many weeks...
Y'all had any good meals lately?
I had a bit of a rebellion yesterday evening.
The workday was more strained than most. Overall I don't mind being outnumbered by women in the workplace, but there are times when it's more rewarding to strategically rearrange your ballsack, call a useless cocksucker a got-damned useless cocksucker to his face, and then chuck him out on his ass. Instead, we ended up sitting in a sewing circle playing another endless round of Estrogenal Consensus and Validation. I swear to FSM all you need to do to cross the line with these harpies is to cast a disapproving glance at your own lunch, and they'll be lobbying The Man to have you sentenced to attend mandatory Diversity training for a week.
Anyway, adding to the stress, I've been eating lots of salads for the past month. I've come to the realization that unless my waistline hits a high-water mark and begins to recede, my health problems are going to be a bit more complicated than elevated blood pressure and A1C levels.
I just couldn't face another bowl of rabbit food after the day I'd had, though...
So, off to the Hofbrau Steakhouse. Actually, it's mostly a Salt Grass Steakhouse now. They took over the old Hofbrau on Shepherd earlier in the year, but they'll still cook your steak on a slab of red-hot iron, as opposed to burning it on a gas grill like at most Salt Grass establishments.
It's a small place, only seats 90 or so. Lots of dead animal heads hanging on the wall, not a fern or Tiffany lampshade in sight.
Parking is always a problem due to the small lot and close proximity to Shepherd, but I bounced my 4x4 up over a curb to grab a spot right by the door. As I was shutting the truck down, a Hummer pulled in next to me, and a Ford Expedition slid in on the other side of me. Not a got-damned treehugger Prius or metrosexual Mini Cooper in sight. This was a good indicator for a manly meal in my immediate future!
Inside was a welcome aroma of cooked animal flesh and fermented grains. I wouldn't have been averse to a whiff of cigar smoke, but the Nanny Staters have denied us that pleasure at steakhouses. Fucktards...
My server was pleasingly plump, with a muffin top and a good amount of junk in the trunk, and was flirtatious to boot. I reset my vocabulary from Office Neuter to Low Hanging Pair. I'm old & wise enough to realize that she's angling for a nice tip, not jonesing for my schvantz, so I can enjoy the banter without having to worry about closing the deal later.
The New York Strip was just how I liked it, just 30 seconds past medium rare, and still oozing some pink juices. The meat was trimmed exactly right, leaving enough tasty fat alongside the steak to lubricate each mouthful, but not so much you feel like you ate a mouthful of beef tallow. The garlic mashed potatoes and the stewed mushrooms were a flavorful pair of side dishes.
Dessert offerings, alas, were the same tired mix of cheesecake, Death By Chocolate cake, and gooey fudgy brownie. After a manly meal like that, I don't want a heavy sweet. Just a bit of berries and zabaglione, maybe a lemon mousse? Perhaps even a poached pear?
No cigars allowed, so I passed on the after-dinner scotch. With iced tea and Caesar salad, it came to $35 plus tip. Best $35 I've spent in many weeks...
Y'all had any good meals lately?
posted by El Capitan | 4:16 PM
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