© 2011 Josh Restaraunt

The slices of the lambs.

Vegan pot-roast for lunch at Doomie’s on Vine.
Me, a committed carnivore.
Pot roast, of all things to fake with Seitan and Tofu,  a staple of my american childhood.
False comfort food.

It reminds me of a girl I met who had lost her sense of smell. She said that all food tasted the same to her, so she might as well be a vegetarian.  She was never able to though, because she missed the texture of meat.  She was a sociopath, but not the mass-murdering kind; she was like the b-story antagonist in a romantic comedy, the villainous roommate that tries to foil the heroine’s relationship.

In San Diego I had a drink that the restaurant had named the ‘Vincent Vega’, i think it was a fountain coke with espresso in it.  It smelled way better than it tasted, but it wasn’t pretending to be anything other than the essence of John Travolta’s character in Pulp Fiction.  I felt the opposite about my pot roast today, it tasted better than it smelled, and it wasn’t trying to be John Travolta.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *


You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

Get Adobe Flash player