Back from what felt like a long SEK hiatus, I put my red apron back on and made what was probably the foulest thing I've ever tasted (short of the plantain-taro root mash at Zengo today) -- olive-crusted turbot on a mediterranean fig smear. Matt Rose choked it down and said "Actually, this is isn't so bad." I keep telling him that he doesn't have to say that -- I won't be forever discouraged from cooking... or am I?
As I approach what my best friend from McGill, Linda Griffith, calls "the 2nd annual 29th birthday," I started to wonder... has my culinary creative drive lost its va-voom?
Well, after spending an evening on the sofa with a bottle of Flor de Cana 7 Year Reserve (the most delicious Nicaraguan rum) waxing sentimental about Pee Wee who is moving to Atlanta and thinking about how the olive-crusted fish went so terribly wrong, I started to brainstorm. Va-voom, voom, vroooom! Voila! The Speakeasy August menu was born.
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