I do love
me some horseradish. Last night we (I) decided to go to the Keg to satisfy a
red meat craving. After looking at Open Table and determining that the Stadium
location was it, we were on our way. On arrival, we were promptly seated
(because reservations rock) and we chose our various meals. My meal of choice: The
Prime Rib Classic. It’s a perfect balance of meat and vegetables. But more
importantly, horseradish.
Some people
eat lobster purely to eat the clarified butter (just me? No?). But I eat Prime
Rib for the horseradish. The Keg has several locations throughout the city and
not all locations are equal when it comes to their horseradish. Some are weak
and I am able to heap it on like it’s a white paste of sadness in the hopes of
some sort of tingle. Others, well. Let me go on.
My Prime
Rib arrived and I was delighted to see what looked like a freshly grated
variety. None of that shit from a jar (I’m looking at you SaveOn). I took in
the scene briefly then dug in. Since I have had past experiences that were lack
luster, I opted to slather on a generous layer of the white gold. I skipped the
formalities of giving it a sniff. Why delay the inevitable disappointment I
fully expected?
I chewed
enthusiastically. The Prime Rib was perfection. Medium rare and juicy with a
lovely red wine jus. The horseradish was the cherry on top.
But what’s
this? An entity has entered my mouth. Silently creeping up to my moderately
congested sinuses. The vapour, neigh the chimera carried on its journey behind
my entire face. A gentle caress turned into a rough hug followed by it moving
through the entire Karma Sutra. Internally
I was suffering from the full effects. Externally. Well, I can only imagine I
looked like a photo of the combination of a dog sneezing and trying to catch a
handful of kibbles at the same time. Wade, being ever supportive in all of my
endeavours regardless of stupidity, sat back and laughed at my suffering.
I cried.
I composed
myself.
I continued
to eat, but with more caution.
Near the end
of his steak, he decided that I was just being overly dramatic. He reached
across and procured a wad of the entity that had not just twenty minutes
earlier had its way with the back of my face. His eyes never left mine as he
spread it on a piece of his steak. He opened his mouth and placed the meat in.
He chewed, still maintaining the eye contact of a groom on his wedding night.
Beads of sweat began to bloom on his forehead. Still he did not flinch. I began
to laugh as he began to crack. He suavely reached for his water.
“It’s got a
good little tingle.”
We both
laughed. But I know what the chimera was doing to his face.
