Sunday, April 19, 2009

Spit it Out



Spring, I've had enough of your flings. Now onto forever, date number two. Marx Café--gathering hole of my dreams sometimes--idealizing and its exposed wooden shell, beams, words, windows and red zinfandel. I venture there often to troubleshoot local abortion access and order wine and the Beef Andalusia—four cubes of tender beef on skewers with sauce like gravy. The beef is always tender.
The fellow was kind and thoughtful and interesting, but something happened to the traditionally melt-in-my-mouth Beef Andalusia. It was fatty and coarse, so I spit it out in one huge lump on my round, saucer plate right in front of my date.