What I would have gladly accepted as my last meal happened this last friday on a penniless (well no, in reality I had five dollars) feild trip into Chitown, or as you foreigners may call it; Chicago. The respect one gets carrying a sketchbook in Millenium Park is equivalent to that one garners from carrying a child, this however is beside the point, just another addition to a beautiful day. It was an excursion of the art department, my personal pod of comrades numbering to eight, and after  exploring as much of the fantastic offerings the institute our little minds could contain, we struck out to the streets in search of...well, even now in retrospect I am unsure if we even had a predetermined goal. Once our feet struck open pavement however a powerful hunger overtook us all, and in a burst of inspiration one of our number remembered a loving aunt who owned a restaurant in the city...and as enthusiasm coupled with bodily needs always acts in catalyst, the only thing holding us back were directional inhibitions (having just come from a city constituting only one stoplight) and camera trigger heavy fingers. We finally arrived, after a rather circumvent route, at the blessed establishment bearing the title Shaws. A wonderful omen considering this is also my mothers maiden name, I should have known at this point that the meal to come would be extrodinary.
     In essence I lived out that song from Beauty and the Beast, Be Our Guest.
Tyler's Aunt happened to own a five-star sea food restaurant and also happened to be a loving relative of our mate, and in nature a generous and motherly person. Upon seeing our college-starved bodies troupe in through the door she ushered us through the brick passageways and business men to the table where magic happens. The big raised corner table under the Thomas Jefferson painting.  
Be our guest! Be our guest!
Put our service to the test
Tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie
And we'll provide the rest

    Lobster bisque, sushi platters, salmon, salad, and a number of surprisingly artistic and varied bread baskets.
Singing pork! Dancing veal!
What an entertaining meal!

    Then... oh then, when we we sitting back regarding eachother with glazed eyes and lopsided grins we were surprised to hear that this was not the end. Words did not encompass our emotion, and this may seem shallow, but I have no recollection of overwhelming gratitude so decapacitating me as much as it did then....I believe we clapped when they brought out the desserts. 
Course by course, one by one
'Til you shout, "Enough! I'm done!"

   Two of every dessert on the menu. Twenty little plates of heaven. Edible heaven. Tyler's aunt must love him very much.
Don't believe me? Ask the dishes
They can sing, they can dance
After all, Miss, this is CHICAGO

No comments: