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good drink, good meat

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good drink, good meat

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I just had dinner from the drive through of a restaurant called The Patio - a rib and barbeque place.  I had been thinking of  barbeque, but when I got to the window, I found myself ordering a half slab of ribs.

The restaurant has a drive through window, which I used.  I brought it home, got inside and situated, poured myself a glass of milk, and after making short work of the bread, I started on the ribs.

At first, I thought I would only eat half of it - this was much more food than I normally eat at a sitting - but I had had a light lunch, and was late getting home.  I was ravenous, and a very little way into eating, I found myself committed - I discovered that I was going to eat until I reached the point of satiety that balances between good and bad. Not something I do very often, but it's harmless every once in a while. Everything in moderation - including moderation.

The sensuous carnal pleasure I experienced during this meal was really something.  Pulling the meat off the bones with my teeth is usually not something I like, I think because of the shape of rib bones, but this time it did not bother me.  The mess of the sauce didn't bother me.  Everything came together.  It was all part of the experience as a whole.  I even ate the coleslaw.

I thought about the animal whose flesh I was eating.  I hoped that before being slaughtered, the pig had a wonderful life, on a family-owned farm, with yummy slops and lots of happy piggy sex in the mud.  :)

The meat was perfectly done, perfectly seasoned, as perfect as it could be without my dad having made it. 

The baked potato, along with two little tubs of sour cream and about nine pats of butter (I didn't eat all of them, but I did eat way more than I should!  *g*) was wholesome and hot and delicious.

The coleslaw was cabbagey and runny with whatever that liquid in coleslaw is.  'Mid pleasures and palaces though I may roam, coleslaw is coleslaw.

It was a darned good meal.
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