It makes me sad

that my last blog was photoless; a meal isn't much of a meal without color, so presumably, a meal-enjoyed-vicariously probably can't be enjoyed as much with no visuals. Because, really, saying you ate a delicious filet mignon isn't enough -- I'd much rather see the steak myself. Maybe it's a psychological thing, and we insist on seeing these photos so that we can make our own judgments because we're too stubborn to follow someone else's, but prose -- phenomenal or not -- is just insufficient, I think.

Which leads me to my next point. As you may or may not have noticed, next on my list of delicious delectables to discuss was lunch at Max Brenner's. Yes, THE Max Brenner's -- known by some as Chocolate by the Bald Man, where pipes literally run across the entirety of the restaurant pumping none other than 100% chocolate. But I smashed my camera in the trunk door of a rather large SUV, so I'm waiting... waiting... waiting on Margo to post the photos online before I can act on the passion and enlightenment incited by that one meal.

So I think I'll wrap this one up here, to leave you guys as aggravated with the lack of any significant meaning as I am with the lack of my very significant camera... because while prose alone doesn't suffice in the tantalizing-description-of-scrumptious-meals department, it does just fine in the spitefully-evoking-frustration-and-angst department.

Hope your week has been as marvelous as mine has. I'm about to head to dinner at Baru, a Latin-Caribbean bistro with a tapas menu for which I wake up every morning, but for which I'd gladly die if it came down to that. I plan on ordering everything... more on that later!