Forgive Me, Waistline, For I Know Not What I Do
You know when you've made a meal out of a cup and a half of cottage cheese and go out for a jog that leaves you wincing and wondering if you have any knee cartilage remaining that you're on one hell of a guilt trip. Such was the case on Sunday, when I plead my case to the Weekend Food Gods, asking for amnesty despite the last two days of food gluttony. It was gonna take more than some fat-free dairy products and sweaty poundin' of pavement to undo what I'd done. Scott and I hosted his dad visiting from GA and well, those men like to eat. Put fresh cocktails in their hands and full plates of good food in front of them and they're all kinds of congenial. I can't say I'm not partial to their ways. Who can blame them? On Friday evening, after Scott's dad learned the joys of navigating the streets of D.C., we set out for a place I found on UrbanSpoon.com. {US is a handy site - considering the recent controversy over the legitimacy of Yelp.com business review...