This past weekend I was in New Orleans and John Besh tried to kill me. No really, he did. Obviously he didn't succeed as I'm here typing this and not a ghost haunting jparks (that's my plan if I die first, to haunt him so he can't sleep to make up for the fact that he coughs all damn night. Also haunting him should keep the sluts from taking hold and keep my kids safe from having a crappy stepmom) but Mr. Besh did succeed at putting me into a short term coma for most of Saturday. Seriously, I was passed out cold for about 19 of that day's 24 hours.
It started before Besh came into my day when I accidentally overslept and missed breakfast along with the first panels of the day. By the time I managed to get myself up and moving it was time to head over to Domenica for the kitchen tour. Once our group arrived that wiley bastard greeted us with bellinis and limoncello and then showed us his meat.
He's pretty proud of his meat, as he should be, it all looked incredible. Also incredible was the limoncello which he makes in house in a process that appeared to be a thousand times simpler than I would expect. Also, the one sip I took of the limoncello was so awesome that I'm ready to make the drive back to NOLA as soon as I pop out this kid. Damn you Besh!
After a quick tour through the bar and kitchen we were taken to a private dining room for a cooking demo and that's when Besh set his sights on my demise. First he had a charcuterie board delivered to each table.
Then the food demo started and the plates of food being deposited in front of us didn't stop.
Missing from that picture is the bowl of red beans and rice with pork roast. Also a chocolate cookie.
At the time I was upset that I wasn't able to choke down all that food but now I see that leaving food on my plate is the only reason I'm not dead. About 30 minutes after eating I felt like keeping my eyes open wasn't an option and I started debating if it would be rude to ditch the group to head back to the hotel. I managed to force myself to stay awake long enough to get my copy of My New Orleans signed and possibly tell John Besh that I was pregnant and drinking, even though that was not true. I'm not sure what I was thinking, maybe that I was making a joke that made no sense and made me sound like a lush once it crossed my lips? Yup, that's got to be it. I love making a good first impression! But whatever, he had already poisoned me by that point so I'm sure he expected me to make no sense. Hell, I was just confirming that his plan was on track. Death to the short girl that had never done him wrong!
After that I headed back to my hotel room where I promptly passed out. I had the foresight to set an alarm so I would be awake in time for dinner and the closing night cocktail parties but that sadly didn't work. Yes the alarm went off, but I somehow managed to bury my phone under a mound of pillows to muffle it, all while remaining asleep. When I finally woke up hours later I noticed that not only had I missed the parties but I had also apparently answered a phone call from jparks that I had no recollection of. I managed to stay awake long enough to watch the best SNL digital short, SHOTS!, and then passed back out. I stayed asleep until the next morning when my alarm went off again alerting me that I needed to pack my stuff up and vacate the hotel room before checkout so housekeeping wouldn't have to call security to have my lifeless body removed.
I have no idea what Besh slipped me but holy hell, it nearly killed me. Good thing I did all that pot in high school to prepare my system for surprise drug attacks. You'll have to try harder next time Besh. Plus now I know to make jparks sample anything that comes from your kitchen before I take a bite. Be warned Beshie, I'm on guard now! Bring it!