Back in October, my wife and I made a reservation for seats at the bar at Odd Duck for our eighth anniversary. Odd Duck has been a favorite restaurant of ours throughout our relationship. They were still operating out of their food truck on South Lamar when we first started dating. Of the great many restaurants we’ve seen ascend from humble beginnings in a food truck park to grow into something much bigger, Odd Duck has to be one of our favorite examples.
My wife and I like to sit at the bar, not to be able to drink directly from the taps of the house infused whatever, but to watch the staff rhythmically coagulate to build an omnivorous oeuvre. We love to watch the production of wonderful food being lovingly prepared by skilled craftspeople. To watch someone find their flow and engage in what they're doing with attentive, yet casual creativity is infectiously inspiring.
Our bartender was amicable and helpful, as the staff there always is. He warmly approved our choices of the cornbread, melon salad, pork shoulder and the wagyu burger. The cornbread was of course amazing, nice and buttery, but most satisfying was the texture of the crispy edges and the billowing, fluffy center. My wife and I both agreed, of course everything tastes great, but what Odd Duck does so well is textures. Every time.
So if we love it so much, why four stars?
After our hors d’oeuvres of cornbread and melon salad, I wanted to visit the restroom to freshen myself up a little for our main course. As I walk into the bathroom and settle in front of the urinal, I peek up and see the most gracious looking painting of a heaving bovine on the daintiest legs anybody ever did stroke into existence.
This cow, with its supple, rounded features, and exaggeratedly short legs was beckoning like a siren to sailors at sea. I found the sensual nature of this painting to be highly inappropriate for its placement where phallai are frequently exposed. The deduction of one star is a result of this unfortunate location of the art. I don’t have a personal history with becoming aroused from the animal kingdom, but this painting did inspire me to have a little more empathy for those who practice beastiality.
Anyone who has had an erection and had to pee at the same time can surely understand the conundrum. I’m not saying I was rock hard looking at this cow, but as a highly sensitive empath, I believe I was picking up on the artist's prurience. And in front of a urinal is a frustrating place to experience such a rush of feeling.
Fortunately, I made it out of the bathroom having done nothing more embarrassing than whispering, “I want you inside me.” I understand the capitalist motivation for getting consumers all horned-up for animal protein, but in the lavatory can we just put up a bunch of mid-20th-century pin-ups like everybody else?