My girlfriends took me out to dinner last night...sort of a friendly little baby shower....send off to never never land....possibly last big night out before I am hurled back into the familiar world of milk production, sleep deprivation, and general insanity.
We decided to fondue it, so we drove to Pensacola to eat at the Melting Pot. None of us had ever been there, although I've been to similar restaurants. Very interesting. They bring you platters of raw food that you cook yourself at your table. Well, you actually start out with a big bowl of melted cheese that you sop up with chunks of bread, apples and vegetables. Then they bring you a big pot of oil and, like I said, RAW meat, that you spear with a tiny fork and cook in said oil. They give you all these instructions about cooking times, etc. and they make a point to tell you to alert them if any of the raw meat touches your dinner plate so they can bring you a new one.
I couldn't help but think about the strangeness of this whole concept. This place was not cheap....so you pay a small fortune for a table full of potential e coli and salmonella....not to mention that your night off from kitchen duty results in you cooking your own food? In a tiny pot of boiling oil that you share with a table full of hungry people who are only getting to take one small bite of food every 3-4 minutes? It's an ingenius concept though....because if you don't like the way your food is cooked there aint no one to complain to except your evil twin.
It really was a fun time. And, thanks to myself, the cook, the food was delicious. My friend Amy gave me and Baby #3 a copy of Pat the Bunny. Amy was appalled a few weeks ago to discover that William and Catherine never had Pat the Bunny. I didn't know I should be ashamed that I had never introduced my children to Paul and Judy and Daddy's scratchy beard. At least #3 will have at least one up on the other two.
Guess I'm supposed to be back on kitchen duty tonight but I'm so exhausted from slaving over a pot of hot oil last night that Andy and the kids may get a peanut butter and jelly sampler platter. The cook needs a break!