So I finally launched the blog about restaurants this weekend. While it’s always nice to talk up a nice plan, it’s even better to get the thing actually done. It’s called PK Eats: New York Dining Journal and it’s not so much a recap of restaurants as it is a series of topical discussions inspired by visits to restaurants. We’ll see how that goes.

***

note: fiction!

Winnie emptied the yellow packet of Splenda into her coffee and stirred with the short metal spoon.

“You know, it’s going to take us another five hours at this rate. We should’ve just taken the shuttle plane,” she said.

I pretended not to hear her and browsed through the menu. Diners in New Jersey, even all the way in the southern part of the state, seemed to have that dingy fluorescent-light feel. The menu was bent at the corners and the clear plastic cover was not as clear anymore. The waitress was a walking stereotype – chain-smoking middle aged dirty-blonde white woman with terribly aged skin and a bit too much makeup.

“What would you like, honey?” the waitress asked in a nasal voice while chewing gum.

“I’ll have the pancake deluxe,” I said.

“How would you like your eggs?”

“Sunnyside up, please.”

“And you want bacon, Candian ham, or sausage?”

“Sausage would be great. Thank you.”

The waitress took down my order and walked away. Winnie, who never seemed to get hungry, sipped on her coffee.

“You know, it sorta sucks that New Jersey doesn’t let you smoke indoors anymore. I totally crave a cigarette right now,” she said.

I played with my knife and stirred the ice cubes in my glass of water. I thought about the time I put ice on Winnie’s nipples and how hard it made them. She had small breasts, but her nipples were nice.

“So what time does this conference start?” she asked.

“I think 8PM,” I replied.

“We’re totally not going to make it. We shouldn’t have stopped here,” she said. She tapped her feet impatiently.

“We’d be stuck on the Turnpike either way,” I said. “Might as well eat and hope that it clears up when we get back on it.”

“Well, it might’ve cleared up already. I don’t know. Just don’t like being late,” she said.

I was slightly annoyed by the comment since Winnie wasn’t the most punctual person, but I didn’t say anything. I shuffled packets of Sweet’n’Lo, Equal, and Splenda. Pastels of pink, yellow, and blue. Something in light green would be nice, I thought.

Our waitress returned with my order. I began by eating the two eggs. Runny, sunny-side up – goes down smooth if you eat it whole one at a time.

“Did you just put one entire egg in your mouth?” Winnie asked, both curious and disgusted.

I nodded and quickly chewed before allowing most of it to slide down my throat. I repeated and kept the yolk intact.

Next up were the pancakes. I lifted open the small syrup packet and spread it evenly across the pancakes along with the butter, which had already begun melting on the warm pancake surface. I used my knife and fork to cut large triangles and began to eat. After a bite of pancake, I alternated with a bite of the sausage, which oozed with grease and provided the salty foil to the sweetness of the syrup-drenched pancake. Delicious.

“You need to slow down when you eat,” Winnie said, her eyes still fixed on me. I drank some water to help wash down the food.

“Yum,” I said.

I finished my meal and took a few minutes to catch my breath. I did eat too fast.

I walked over to the cash register and paid. I left a few dollars for the waitress on the table.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said.

“Can we listen to something else in the car? You’ve played the same CD for the past two hours,” she complained.

“Sure,” I said. I felt incredibly full and wondered if food coma would hit when we got on the road again.