Friday, November 24, 2023

In Which We Give Minimal Thanks


Oh ladies and lady boys, this year for Thanksgiving I decided I would not cook for once.  Secret Agent Fred and I thought we would be the only ones of our friends who would be in town, so we started shaking down restaurants to find where we might go.  Sort of just arbitrarily, we wound up at the Four Seasons Hotel.  Because we are fancy boys, that's why.  Then about a month ago, our good friends, Drumstick and Hot Foot, announced they were not going to be leaving town.  They did so with the air of a dog who wants to go out for a walk, so I invited them along.

The Four Seasons really is a pretty swanky joint. It used to be decorated in extreme good taste, lots of silk and velvet and mohair all in a taupe/gold/turquoise palette.  The last time I was there was before R Man died and that was 12 years ago and even then all the finishes and upholstery were sort of tatty.  They obviously got theirselves together because it's all been redone, but in a very disappointing mushroom gray blandness. Yuck 

The dining room where we were eating is on the 5th floor and has big windows along Market Street in the very heart of downtown, so it was a very big city kind of experience.  Aside from the views though, dinner was sort of meh.  

We started off with an amuse bouche which sounded interesting on the menu (octopus, chorizo aioli, and potatoes) but which did not really amuse my bouche.  It was followed up by very nice frisee salad with grapefruit and crab in it.  And then a lobster tagliatelle course. I assume they boiled the lobster and then saved the water as a kind of court bullion to cook the pasta in.  I thought the lobster was very tasty, but I didn't like the pasta carrying a kind of fishy flavor.

The main course, of course, was all the All-Stars of Thanksgiving gone by: turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and green beans.  The turkey was bland, and so was the dressing which also had an odd gummy texture.  The mashed potatoes, which should be the star of the evening were served as an artistic smear across the plate.  I say if your mashed potatoes are thin enough that you can paint with them, you have done something wrong, very wrong.  The green beans were green beans.

The whole dessert course was made up of tiny little sweet things, sort of like what you get at tea and was entirely forgettable.

Then the check came, has it almost always does, and it turned out to be $300 a person. Three. Hundred. Fucking. Dollars.  I am happy as anyone to fling money about, but I really prefer a bigger bang.

I felt like I was being punished for not cooking.

And now, some boys to give thanks for:

What I really would have preferred for the day.

Even I know it's not baseball season, silly, but who could refuse a butt like that?

Konstatin Resch.  When I first saw this, I thought he had a giant padlock on the head of his dick.  I thought his boyfriend was being very sensible, but then I realized I just needed to clean my glasses.

That is some mighty fine amuse bouche.

Athan Seville.  You know he is both cute and trouble.

More tasty than the mashed potatoes tonight.

This guy originally worked in the porn trenches under the name "Flex," but now he's expanded it into Flex  Xtremmo, which just proves you actually can make any situation worse.

One of our new favorites, Massimo Arad.

Doesn't everyone love Austin Wolf?  I know I do.

A classic.

Sports.  They're everywhere.


  1. For $300 a person, I'd expect beefcake with a soft drink and an order of fries!
    Anonymous, too

    1. For 3 benjamins, I would expect all that and a lap dance.

  2. That's a lot of dosh for a somewhat average culinary experience! I guess that included drinks (usually the priciest bit of any bill)? Jx

  3. I know that's true. Some wine with dinner and drumstick had a drinks before and one after. He's a drummer, you know how THEY are.

  4. Once we decided to go out for Thanksgiving dinner. We had nothing to do all day.

    Walked to the restaurant. We’re crammed into a tiny table in an over full restaurant. The table, an elbow away, from us was occupied by a husband and wife with their new born kid. The food sucked. Never went out for Thanksgiving dinner again.

    1. We were (correction)

    2. Oh no. Over the years I've gone out for Thanksgiving dinner a few times and you're right, it's never very good. I assume everyone who's working is in a bad mood because they're there on a holiday.

  5. For three hundred bucks I would need my bouche to be fully amused during the entire meal!

  6. One's bouche needs all the amusement one can provide it.

  7. I would have asked if I could pay in kindness, failing that, do a runner. The over priced poncy rob dogs.

  8. Why go out for turkey when you could have massive cock? There's definitely enough to go 'round.


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