Back in grammar school, the unlucky ate the cafeteria food. A few of us carried our lunch from home in a brown bag. Without imagination, I'd attack in order: first the carrot sticks or apples, then the sandwich and finally the dessert. One day I noticed a kid who was eating his dessert first. I asked him why. He looked at me as if I'd asked to pee on his shoes. "In case I get full, at least I've had my dessert!" This kid was clearly brilliant - he probably grew up to be an astronaut. At Meating, had I been able to start with dessert and go backwards, I would've been much happier.
The rice pudding was really well done. Perfect texture and not overly sweet. It luxuriated in a caramel bath and was topped with popcorn and nuts. In my fantasy reordering, everything else that followed went downhill. Case in point, the "Thai-spiced" steak tartare. It peered out from beneath a jumbled crown of julienned vegetables and was neither Thai nor spiced. It was an insult to Thailand, a country I happen to love.
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