56. Sukiyaki

Hold on a second. Haven’t we seen this card before?

Um. yeah we have!

This ad appears on the “About Dinner is Served!” page. Check it:

That was a little bit of Deja Vu, amiright?

Speaking of Deja Vu, have you ever been on a Deja Date?

I have. Back in early March.

OK, here’s the deal–since I got the future phone I signed up for Tinder, which is basically Grindr for straight folks. I ended up exchanging messages back and forth with a guy named Orson. So after a couple of days of exchanges:

Are you from Pittsburgh?

Yep.

This is going to sound odd, but do you have a blog?

Yeah, I do.

I think we’ve gone out before.

Huh?

Yeah, true story: we did. Through OKCupid. Almost 2 years ago.

I asked him, did we have fun? He said that he did. I then asked why we didn’t go out again and he said that it was because of scheduling and that I didn’t seem too into him.

Our initial date was apparently so un-noteworthy that I completely forgot about it. But I then considered that may be a good thing because typically the only reason my dates are memorable is if they are absolutely horrible.

So Orson asked me out again. And I accepted. It was painless the first time, so I thought I’d give it another shot. I’m trying to be very positive (don’t I say that every year?); maybe I was too quick to judge after Date One.

On Date Two we met in Fells Point at a little joint called Rye. And like all new-ish establishments in Baltimore, it’s all craft cocktails and old-timey Prohibition-themed. I showed up a little late because I was trying out that Uber car service (like I was going to drive down and park in Fells!) and the bar was in a different block than I thought (I inverted my numbers). Whoops!

I arrived and Orson was already there, drink in hand. I don’t know if he had already had a few or was flat-out stoned, but he was glassy-eyed and a little slurry. Conversation was like pulling teeth, but since I traveled all the way down there, I decided to make the most of it. I ordered a Manhattan and it was good. Since Orson wasn’t talking, it was kind of like I was doing stand-up. Not the worst thing in the world–let’s face it, I don’t mind hearing myself talk. Then I ordered a Sloe Gin Fizz. I’ve made a Golden Fizz and a Silver Fizz but this was far superior. Delicious–raw egg and all.

The date thus far wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t horrible. At least I had a nice drink in front of me. Honestly, I was rather bored, but after two strong drinks, I didn’t much care; but after two strong drinks, it was a good idea to get something to eat as well. Sadly, the little taco joints were already closed, and Orson didn’t seem to keen on the menu at Rye, so we walked up Thames a bit to another restaurant featuring 1/2 off Burger Night. Score!

Or so I thought.

Well this date went from bored to worse in 60 seconds. We sat at the bar and ordered burgers. After that we really had nothing to talk about. We sat in silence watching the NCAA Tournament. I started chatting up the guy next to me who was really into the game. I mean, I wasn’t getting anything out of Orson so why not commiserate with the other bar-goers?

The burgers arrived. My burger was shitty.

The topic, like it often does in Baltimore, turns to the Ravens.

Orson: So, are you going to become a Ravens fan now that you’re in Baltimore?

Me: Hell, no!

Well, what if the Ravens win twenty Super Bowls and the Steelers are last place every year?

No, dude. I’m from Pittsburgh.

What if they don’t have a team anymore?

Oh, you mean like how the Browns moved because of Art Modell and became the Ravens? Like how that Lombardi actually belongs to Cleveland? CHECK PLEASE!

I already had the card out. I didn’t look at the bill, I just gave the Visa to the bartender.

Yeah, my treat, dude.

I needed to get out of there. I needed to leave Fells Point. Don’t talk smack about my Steelers. I’m no bandwagon fan. Good or bad, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, I got black and gold in my blood. I’m never gonna flip allegiance just because of titles and records.

I was livid.

Fuck that shit. Fuck you, Orson. In the immortal words of Nicolas Cage in Valley Girl: Fuck off. For sure. Like totally!

The only way he could have offended me more is if he started spewing racial slurs and trying to convince me that Elvis isn’t the greatest performer of all time.

So I was a little bit angry. And you know what’s a good way to take out aggression?

Yes. Ramming down fast and hard is one way to get the angers out.

It is VEG-O-MATIC…..the sequel!

Yes. I am the proud owner of an actual Veg-O-Matic II.

My friend Erin happened upon one while helping clean out her grandmother’s house. It was in really good condition. The original box and the original instructions.

How frickin’ cool is that?

Well, this Sukiyaki was the perfect dish to bust out the V-O-M-II with all of those sliced and diced vegetables.

It does slice and dice with the greatest of ease:

The only problem vegetable was the onion, but if you get rid of all of the exterior layers, the V-O-M-II gets the job done.

I took this dinner to Todd and Leah’s. And when I say that I took it to Todd and Leah’s I mean that I did all the prep at my place and took everything, cut vegetables, beef, sauce, cucumber-soy salad, and even the electric skillet to their house.

Here is the end result:

The Fiestaware really looks nice here!

I liked this dinner. It was light and it ended with orange sherbet. And who doesn’t love orange sherbet?

Honestly, I don’t want to know that person. That person is probably worse than that Orson guy.