There’s something so sexy about the idea of someone stuffing themselves over course of a long, slow, unhurried dinner at a good restaurant. Like, yes, I like a good “person buckles down and eats two heaping portions of fettuccine Alfredo back to back” moment as much as the next feedism enjoyer, but I do also love when it takes a bit of time and it’s luxurious. Like you’re out to eat with friends and maybe your partner, there’s nowhere you need to be next, everyone get some drinks (alcoholic or not), and you all order way too many appetizers for the table but it’s all so yummy that you can’t help finishing probably a meal’s worth before the actual meal. Luckily there’s enough time between the apps and the main for you to to sit back and digest a little bit and sip on your drink some more, maybe order another one, just laughing and chatting and spending quality time with people you care about.
Then the entrees arrive, and you’re not really hungry but you’re also not really full, and after all, you’re there for dinner, and this is dinner. So you tuck in with gusto, and you get maybe halfway through before the fullness catches up with you and you take a minute to lean back and sip some water, but then it’s just so delicious that you can’t help but pick at your plate while conversation continues. Eventually you don’t really have enough to justify bringing it home any more, and you swear you’re just going to stop there because you are getting really full, but you find yourself forgetting you’ve decided this and finishing the plate anyway. And of course that’s on top of the various bites your friends have all been offering you from their dishes because the food is so tasty that everyone had to try a little of everything.
And you’re definitely too full for dessert but when they bring the dessert menu, you’ve had just enough time to feel like you could eat a little more, and get distracted from the fullness by the chit chat, and so you get dessert, and maybe a coffee or a tea or a dessert cocktail, and by the time you work through that (again having told yourself there’s no way you’re finishing it all because there simply isn’t room left in your stomach), you’re absolutely packed full and you feel so so heavy. The feeling of fullness is so complete because you’ve been eating at a leisurely pace for a while and the food from the earlier part of the evening had already begun to settle, and you just kept filling up any room as it became available, and despite being stuffed, the food was just so decadent and flavorful that you genuinely couldn’t help taking another bite and then another and another until you finally put your fork down, dessert demolished, and lean back in your chair and take stock, and the top part of your belly is noticeably swollen and taut with everything you put away over the course of the evening. And when you stand up to leave the restaurant you almost feel the need to hold your belly with one hand to support it because you’ve eaten so fucking much, but you’re also just blissed out in a content food-drunk haze, having had such a nice time with your people. You’re so utterly overfed and satisfied.
I love this because it’s not just the overeating, but the overeating because you were genuinely just enjoying yourself so much. The company was great, the food was spectacular, you were there to indulge and talk and laugh and not worry about anything and it’s just such a wonderful evening and to top it all off, you’re so full of good food that you tasted and enjoyed every bite of that you couldn’t suck in if you tried. There’s just so much joy involved in those kinds of experiences, and the simple feel-good of relaxing with friends and indulging and appreciating the flavors.
and the eating so much but it just slowly catching up with you over a languid easy evening is chef’s kiss of course
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