Where's The Off Button On This Thing?
So much for the diet. To be honest I have been good…at least during the weekdays. Since I’m at work it’s easy to do because it’s already miserable enough there to begin with. I’m so good during the week though that I completely lose all self control on the weekends. This weekend has been no exception. As I lay here on my couch, hung over, wishing I didn’t drink all that whiskey and partake in fourth meal I’ll tell you the tale of this weekend past.
It all started as usual. Somewhere around mid week I started looking into weekend activities (on the clock of course) and searching Yelp and Eater for any new restaurants in town worth looking into. After an excruciating search and weighing the pros and cons of each, my chunky self decided I wanted to go to a newish restaurant downtown called Glutton LV for brunch. It didn’t take much convincing and my fiancé was on board too. Little did we know, as life may have it, we would not end up anywhere near this place during our weekend (dun dun dunnnnn).
Plans were changed late Friday afternoon when we were invited to go to a reggae concert at Mandalay Bay Beach. Yes, they do have a beach right on the strip. Much like everything else in this world that’s great, once Vegas hears about it, Vegas has to have it. So they build it. For the record, I’m ok with this. The Paris is a little tacky but the Venetian is pretty amazing if you think about it. With the news of the concert we only found it suiting we meet up at Boarder Grill for bites to eat and some drinks.
Four margaritas and three Modelo’s later, I found myself in a worth of self-loathing. I had one of my food blackouts and before I knew it I had put down two fish tacos, 2 carne asada tacos and I was nibbling on an acquaintance’s elote. I have no self-shame. That Mexican corn was the tits or bee’s knees if you were born during the swing era. Both tacos were right from the grill made to order. They had a charcoal grill on the patio just to make things that much hotter because the mercury being at 104 wasn’t high enough. The taco’s all came out on traditional corn tortillas with pico de gallo, guac and crema. To be honest, the fish tacos were a little sub par but the carne asada tacos…were amazing. Something about that grilled meat in those little tacos that tastes so official. I could have eaten three more but need I remind you I had Five Guys for lunch…I told you this weekend was bad….But wait, there’s more (Please re-read in Billy Mays voice).
Saturday was a bit of an errand day. I hate errand days but they usually one way or another end up with a belly full of food. This was no exception. After years of passing the Baguette Café on the 215, I finally remembered doing a brief moment of hunger, its existence. It took little to no convincing to get my fiancé on board with this because we’ve become enablers, and that’s what enablers do, they enable. When we enable, the limit does not exist to how much we chose to enable. Before I continue to drop vaguely resembled Mean Girl quotes, I’m going to just stop. Grool? See what I did there?
As we entered, we were greeted by who I assume was the owner. Call me stereotypical, but the guy was French and working behind the counter of the Baguette Café. Pardon me for being so brash. To be fair, he was extremely polite, and the way the word croissant rolled off his tongue with such little effort. Before even looking at the menu I knew I had to have a croissant with whatever menu item my heart, eyes and stomach have decided on. Just to add to my desire for these croissants, they had JUST came out of the oven too. We walked in as he was pulling the buttery, flakey goodness from the oven. The menu allows you to add chicken or proscuitto to any sandwich you want. I settled on the eggplant pesto and added proscuitto, which the owner confirmed, was imported from Italy. I just need to pause for commercial break while I continue to swoon about how good this place really is. For no more than $10 I was able to get this amazing grill baguette sandwich with a warm, flakey, buttery carb filed croissant. Needless to say I was in heaven. The baguette was crispy with fresh grill marks. The mozzarella was bubbling out coated in the fresh covering of sea salt, fresh cracked pepper and the pesto spread. The eggplant was grilled to the point when it was caramelized and still lights enough to where you don’t have to feel bad about eating a whole baguette to your self. I left feeling good. I left knowing it was money well spent and that I would 100% be going back for lunch next weekend without regrets.
Which brings us to point B. My smelly, hung over and hungry self, lying on the couch watching The Open. Wont you please bring me some food? You’re right, I probably shouldn’t, but calories don’t count on the weekend right?
