meat. as big as your arm.

so there's this restaurant in sao paulo called figueroa, for the 150 year old fig tree that grows in the middle of it.

me, fig tree:


fig tree, restaurant:


the family that owns it, the figgersons, or something, i don't really remember, also own estancias where they ranch their own meat. and it's good. real good.

my meat (in a g rated kind of way):


you can also go the route kira and richard went: meat the size of your forearm:


as long as you save room for dessert. why?
because you have to have an excuse to pose in front of a dessert table, for one:


and the desserts are as sick as the meat.


you know how you never think you're going to type a sentence, and then, BAM, there you are saying things like "my meat" and "pose in front of the dessert table"?

yeah, that's the kind of day it's been, my friends. full of unexpected things.