mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day #17: Food. Beer. Foooood. Beeeeeer Perhaps I should spend a few minutes talking about food since I haven't devoted much time to the subject. Tonight's dinner consisted of an appetizer of muscles in a tomato and red wine sauce. The second course was a lobster bisque with hints of clove and basil. The main course was salmon with a raspberry and balsamic vinegar reduction. Dessert was a chocolate-raspberry cake and coffee. All of this came to just above $20 American smackeroos. Holy cow, am I stuffed. The weird thing is that I have been eating like this every day. This "table-dhote" -- tanslated to mean "a shitload of food for really, really cheap" -- lets me eat until I am stuffed. Yet I realized the other day that I no longer have enough holes in my belt to keep my pants on. I am eating like a king... but I am losing weight. Weeeerd. Oh. And I am also drinking beer like it is water. I enjoy it while I am drinking, but at 2am, I always regret it when I have to crawl down off of the top bunk of my hostel bed, walk down the hall half-asleep, and try to find my way back from the bathroom. But the beer here is quite good. That's why I continue to drink. Remember me mentioning "poutine"? It is my favorite guilty pleasure up here. It starts out with a bed of french fries. They then float the fries in brown gravy, then they top it with cheese curds. It is absolutely unbelievably delicious. But you can feel your heart slow down after eating it, so it's probably nothing to eat every day. One last food thing: I went to a sugar shack the other day where they have fresh maple syrup ready for the buying. They also have a large trough full of snow and a pot of hot syrup. They pour off some syrup into the snow, give you a stick, and when it has cooled, you can spin the stick on the line of syrup. It has the consistancy of taffy, and it is so maply-sugary good that it makes you smile just eating it. But it drips on your jeans. Which sucks, but if you can lick your jeans later, it's not so bad... We leave tomorrow at 5:30 for a thirty-hour train marathon. I'm not looking forward to it, but Nicole has Tylenol PM, so I will drug myself into thinking it is only a few hours. Gotta run. Time's out 8:30 p.m. - Thurs., April 3, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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