Sunday, September 23, 2012

Why I will never go back to that restaurant

This was back in 2009. December, I think? I haven't really posted in a long time. There goes my streak. Now, back to the post that should've stayed at 2009:


I will speak of my DC trip, but not now. I just want to say something.

Tonight, I just got back from watching Slumdog Millionaire with my friends. I found it to be a splendid movie. I was blown away by the story, the acting, and the directing, despite the existence of development segments where the movie suffered from dropping to a snail's pace.

Right after watching the Oscars, my friends and I decided on-impulse to see the movie; it had been on everyone's list, but no one had seen it. Half of us left to go home, while the rest of us piled into my car and caught the 10:35pm showing of Slumdog Millionaire.


I loved it. It was about love and destiny. Certainly, a bit of poetic justice is fitting at this point. In fact, the restaurant I tried on the previous night was ironically named Elle.

It's a great restaurant, but there's little food for vegetarians, and as I recently found out, due to the butter used in cooking, there's almost nothing for vegans.

I have very recently declared my desire to become vegan.

My status as a vegetarian has been an incremental set of achievements, somewhat coinciding with visits from my brother. It wasn't planned. It wasn't completely his influence either (says the follower. But realistically, by all accounts, my family is the biggest reason I am vegan today, although I'd like to think I would've been on the path towards such a goal anyway). Since 2002, I started taking various meats from my diet; first all meats but fish & fowl, then those, too - now eggs, butter, and dairy. For 6 years, I had been working towards this, without even knowing it was my end goal. And mind you, along the way, I have been quite lenient with myself in the process, not declaring any hard lines until long after I was comfortable with my diet and my choice. Even then, I still told myself I was keeping in-step with the diet as much as I felt was natural for me.

I surprised myself, considering that I want to gain weight.

Now that sub-story is out of the way, we can actually move to the title's namesake; the break-up dinner. I have never gone to a dinner to break-up with someone. I seriously hope to not ever do that again.

In fact, when I tasted my pasta rabe made with broccoli and asparagus, I realized something was amiss, and it wasn't the fact that I was forcefully trying my best to stay cheerful and light-hearted (And I swear to god it was almost working, but almost doesn't count for shit). I ate the meal, vegetarian but not vegan, and I couldn't isolate the flavor that signaled this horrendously over-dramatic, but painfully-apt metaphor. It should've been vegan, (and at the time, I thought it was) but the foul taste lingered in my mouth later, and the realization dawned upon my tired mind that the meal was saturated with butter. Okay, not a problem for the rest of you non-vegans, but it's something I chose not to do, and yet I did.

How she and I met and how we got along was the same way: wrong circumstances, wrong time, not enough time, and nowhere could we be fully alone (which didn't stop us), but this was definitely the meal I ordered. I wanted it, and so did she. It was what I asked for but cooked the wrong way. I only figured it out long-after I had digested it all.

This was beyond all things in my limited experience. My thoughts were not my own. I didn't want that. At least, I don't want it right now.

Mind you, I don't have an iron trap for a mind. This is one of those things that will stay with me.

Near the end of the meal, she said, "So, you're ending it because it's going too well."

Close enough.

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