Underbelly

So I went to Underbelly last week with my student organization, Texas Restaurant Association, Cougar Chapter. That's right beyotches I'm just part of clubs and organizations all over the place. I know what you're thinking, Catherine, how do you have time to be so rich and successful, and join any organization that you think you can get a free meal out of, too? Well guys, life isn't just about scrolling through the internet, in your bedroom, only wearing your underwear, until your battery gets so hot that it catches your duvet on fire. If it were, duvet manufacturers would be much wealthier. Take it from me, guys. You have to get out there and meet people too.

Which is why I found myself at Underbelly last week even though I don't have a real person job. Here's the thing is, it's very dark in there. Look I understand the concept of mood lighting, I do. But there's a difference between not wanting to watch Catherine Martin struggle to eat food in an elegant way and not being able to see your food at all. There was this one embarrassing thing that happened. My student organization had set up some sort of tasting menu to be sent to the table, and whenever the plates would be dropped off the waiter would tell us what each one was and we'd happily much away. They brought some sort of dumpling to the table and I bit into one, not listening to what the waiter is saying. I stop, chewing, disgusted. What is that marinara sauce? It is so gross and rancid, how is this a thing at a fancy dining restaurant. I shoot glances to my peers, and one says, "Yeah, I don't really like goat either."

Goat? Guys it wasn't even marinara sauce, it was just goat, and thanks to the dim lighting I would have never known and I would have come here onto my famous weblog and told everyone that Underbelly uses some gross marinara sauce, when really it turns out I just don't like goat, probably because their eyes are so creepy to look at (and also because they seem like they would be really soft when you look at them, but when you pet them, they aren't). -28

Here's what's pretentious about Underbelly. Instead of regular menu covers, they've taken the covers of old books, flattened them out, and used them as covers. The only problem is it's not like they used Alice in Wonderland, or like, Jane Eyre, good books that I like. They used textbook covers, such as "McGraw-Hill Series in Mechanical Engineering" and "Prospecting your way to Sales Success". I realize that we're a student organization, but what that means is that normally, when we go out to eat, we want to escape the horrors of having to learn things, not romanticize it. -17 At least we were all Hotel/Restaurant Management majors instead of engineering (or sales, because I'm pretty sure if I were majoring in that sort of thing I'd have to stab my heart out and then braise it with goat meat.)

You know what's cool though? Well I guess I should say creepy. I'm pretty sure that the guy who was sitting at the table next to me was the guy who writes this really funny blog, b4ttlesong. Some of you guys probably read it because it's hilarious, and I also read it, and I feel really creepy because the reason I think it was him was because he had this tattoo on his forearm that said "Come and Take It" and I know from reading his blog that he has a similar forearm tattoo. This is the creepiest way to recognize someone in a restaurant, I know. I've officially crossed a line or two. But don't worry, I didn't get up and talk to this man like a normal person. No, I scurried away to the bathroom, looked up a picture of him on the internet, and silently compared the two until I was sure that he had left and I could safely return to the table without seeming like a stalker. +12 for the presence of food writers in their restaurant. Also now we know that I can never move to LA, or any other place with a high population of famous people, because I will creep everyone out and nobody will want to be friends with me.

I guess that's all you need to know. Also I don't have any tattoos, guys, so if you're hoping to recognize me in a restaurant just look for a girl with glasses and freckles who can't handle chopsticks and that's probably me.