Seems like every time Sheryl and I go to Seattle (which is twice in the last couple of years), we go crazy from overeating … at least I do. Tonight, working my way through the signature coconut cream pie at the Dahlia Lounge ^[1] … after a Manhattan straight up, a bowl of duck noodle soup, several slices of black and green olive bread and a generous portion of Snake River Farms ^[2] pork tenderloin with carmelized pearl onions and (I think) braised kale … all this after a breakfast quiche at the Macrina Bakery ^[3] and a quick lunch of sukiyaki and rice at the Uwajimaya Market ^[3] … I found myself thinking back to my college production of Molière’s “The Miser” (in which I played Valere, the romantic lead; how long ago was that!) and the playwright’s immortal words of warning: “You should eat to live, not live to eat.”

I made it well into my middle years without following his advice. And now there seems little chance I will everheed it. Yesterday we made what now feels like an annual pilgrimage to the Barking Frog ^[4] in Woodinville where I ate my first ever grilled antelope (from a ranch in Texas; okay, not sensational) washed down by a complement of Washington reds (much better than the antelope, as were the oysters from Whidby Island’s Penn Cove and the bread pudding with maple ice cream).

Oh, and I forgot… the homemade donuts with mascarpone at the Dahlia Lounge. (Whoever invented Lipitor is the greatest human being since DaVinci.)