Bon-Manger

On my last day in town, I wanted a muffuletta.  While Central Grocery is a historical staple, I’d always found it a bit too oily for my tastes, and the line was always too long.  I had my sights set on a newer place that was making a big splash for itself in the city: Cochon Butcher.

The fine dining restaurant, Cochon, was nominated for a Best New Restaurant James Beard award in 2007, the same year David Link, the co-owner of Cochon and the popular Herbsaint, was named Best Chef: South.  Stephen Stryjewski, the other co-owner of Cochon, was bestowed the very same honor this year in 2011.  This butcher shop was their casual brain child – part butcher counter, part restaurant, part supply shop for amateur gourmet – the epitome of everything that modern “fast food” could be in my opinion.  My flight was at 3pm, and I had just enough time to bring back a muffuletta (and a few Hubig’s Fried Pies) to cram in before I returned to New York.

Needless to say, it didn’t disappoint.  It was the epitome of what I would classify as a nouveau-Creole muffuletta; herby, soft bread perfectly balanced with the finest cuts of meat, a distinctive olive tapenade that may have contained pearl onions and other spices…  simple with depth, exactly what would be expected from a Beard-nominee. And in spite of the fact that I was so entirely full that I didn’t think I could fit another bite of food into my stomach, I ate the whole thing.

My stomach was a wreck on the way home, due simply to the fact that I’d eaten entirely too much.  By volume.  I wasn’t hungry at all when I ate that muffelatta.  On the contrary I was quite full.  So I already knew that what I was doing could only be classified under the biblical sin of gluttony.

I sat shifting back and forth in my seat trying to find some comfort, to no avail.  So I made the utter mistake of consuming yet more – a ginger ale “to settle my stomach”.  Less than 30 minutes later, I was fumbling awkwardly in my seat pocket for the bag of terror, which I proceeded to fill to the horror of my rowmate.  I didn’t feel sick before or after.  Only sublimely embarrassed that I’d actually partaken in a romanesque purge.

A fitting departure for a whirlwind baptism, a forceful re-christening of my stomach into the ways of my old world.  Yet an awakening…  into a new awareness of health and balance.  A knowing, that I still craved another bite in spite of my puke mouth and that I wanted to enjoy eating these things forever, so I had to beat back my primal urges and create balance.  You can’t possibly eat rich and gaudy deliciousness for every meal.  It’s unsustainable.  Hence, my neverending quest for…

Sustainable gluttony.

Having your cake, eating it too, and walking it off afterward so you can fit into the skinny jeans.

Follow my quest.

(Start at the beginning? Intro, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5)