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On Sangria, Soup and Servings

A while back, a bunch of us went out for a birthday dinner as a family. Seeing as how it was for a birthday, we went to one of the nicer steak houses near by. I don't generally go to steak houses very often, and I definitely hadn't been to this one before. I didn't quite know what to expect, frankly. I shouldn't have worried. By the end of the meal, we all had a good meal and a surprising amount of laughter.

First of all, we all decided on getting a pitcher of sangria. I think it was one of the few things we could all agree on, and it was pretty darn delicious. Of course, this was the beginning of the fun. One of my sister-in-law's brothers (side note: I'm always curious if there's a more succinct way of describing this relation) had had to miss the dinner, so my sister-in-law decided to make sure he knew exactly what he was missing. I think the word "awesome" and the phrase "what you're missing out on" were thrown around in some text messages.

With drinks and appetizers out of the way, we all ordered our entrees. They all came with a serving of soup, a cream of mushroom. This was also pretty good, but more importantly, the waiter cautioned us not to try to finish the soup. In his words, "trust me, I've done this plenty of times. You won't finish the entree that way." Now, it was a sizable bowl of soup, I won't lie. It wasn't ginormous by any means, though. I looked at the soup, looked at him, then decided that I would trust my gut over his recommendation. I figured that in the absolute worst case, I could dial my appetite back up to an 11 for one night.

So, I finished my soup. When he came back to get our plates, our waiter noticed. He was a nice guy and all, but he had jokes at this point, "you know what? If you finish your soup and your entree, I will give you a free dessert." Game on.

I had ordered a 16 ounce steak for my entree. It came with a bed of mashed potatoes and some vegetables, but none of that looked discouragingly-sized. As many who have eaten with me know, I eat very quickly. It's not something I'm proud of, but it is what it is. So, I ate at my usual pace and plowed through my meal. It was a good steak, it was well cooked, and I thoroughly enjoyed it (second side note: savoring your meal and eating quickly are not mutually exclusive). And, I finished it all. It's not like I was in pain at that point, but I knew good and well that I was full. I knew better than to try to help someone else finish their meal.

When the waiter came back to check on us, he stopped, and simply said, "you've got to be kidding me." I'd love to tell you that his mouth was ajar, but that could just be my memory playing tricks on me. Regardless, he also followed that up with, "I don't know how you do it. I'd be 400 pounds if I ate the way you do." I think this is proof yet again that I am actually "a fat person in a skinny person's body."

My brother and his wife had jointly been working on a 32 ounce steak, so they were pretty much in the same position I was. They, like me, had also thoroughly enjoyed their meal and they had stopped before they were in pain. They didn't quite finish the vegetables, though. In the spirit of the usual jokes at the family table, my brother claimed that the only reason for this was that he had been given a "big ass bowl of soup." The claim was that it had been substantially bigger than mine, and therefore, the extra liquid was the difference in what we ate (side note three: pft, yeah right). Still, to this day, we warn about the extra large bowls of soup that a restaurant can serve you.

By this point, we were all full and quite content. That free dessert never materialized, but I was far from worried about it. It had been far too entertaining a meal for me to stress about it. I think I'm going to have to go back one of these days.

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