I went to the doctor's office for my annual medical check-up yesterday and was pricked, pulled, yanked and fingered (you boys know what I mean) all within the matter of minutes. And he didn't even buy me dinner or say thank you.
So to get over my feeling of rejection, I treated myself to a nice dinner at Blue Smoke, a kitschy BBQ joint in Murray Hill, the neighborhood northeast of Union Square. The baked beans were mediocre at best, the hush puppies were dry and cold, and the BBQ ribs, although meaty, were not falling-off-the-bone delicious. I was disappointed again.
So what is your comfort food?