Guess where I'm eating?
Lori Midson

Guess where I'm eating?

Okay, so I was obviously hungry last night, which I invariably get after four or five beers, plus a handful of french fries at the Fainting Goat, the fallback bar for us Westworders who write about things like a Medieval-sized lamb shank, a loaded baked potato with fresh chives, Gorgonzola cheese bread and asparagus.

Speaking of asparagus, can someone please shed some light on why it is that people think that asparagus spears are finger food? Same thing with green beans. I'm not suggesting that there's anything remotely wrong with using your thumb and forefinger to pick up your food -- hell, babies do it all the time -- but I'm intrigued. And off topic.

Back to the photo at hand. My prediction -- usually wrong -- is that this is going to be a tough one to nail -- but I've thought the same thing before, only to be completely blindsided by those of you far more snap-savvy than you have any right to be. But I probably ate more than I had any right to, so I guess we're even. Sort of. The difference is, I know where to go for a freakishly-great shank; you, on the other hand, have to hope that if you guess correctly, I'll own up to my own gluttony.

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