Wednesday, August 30, 2006
FLAYED ACROSS AMERICA, PART UNE.
*Readers are strongly encouraged to refer back the May 12, 2006 post entitled "Flayed" as preparation for the following blog.
Friends and colleagues,
I'm back in the ATL after a whirlwind August that included stints and Vegas and New York. Did you miss me? Don't answer that. You're probably wondering why I'm jetsetting across this great nation, getting all transcontinental on your ass while you sit at home eating Wheat Thins and burrata cheese and whatnot. Well, the purpose of my travels is namely:
B to the F.L.A.Y. The Bob-man! The Flayster! Flay-o-rama! Bob-o-rino! Call him what you will, this grandmaster-chef is the hollandaise on my egg scramble. The creme fraiche on my chocolate souffle. The balsamic reduction on my pecan-encrusted fig tarts. Do you have a menu? Anyways, I've traveled pretty far, my friends, across mountainous terrain, through darkened city streets, across lakes and streams and fjords. My trusty camera has been my greatest companion through this voyage. In the spirit of Flay himself, I present my latest photo documentary, FLAYED ACROSS AMERICA, PART UNE. Ahem:
Our first stop, Mesa Grille at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. Couldn't get a reservation here, but I was able to scope out the interior for Flay with my acute 20/20 vision. No Flay in site. Settled for picture in front of giant backlit sign.
While hanging a right around the side of the establishment, I come across a smaller sign and grab another photo op. In 100-degree heat with feet blisters, you can see that I'm starting to get weary, but I continue on with a determined spirit.
During the last leg of my Vegas trek, I come across this old, tattered photograph of Flay in his early twenties. Great historical find. Note look of content and relief as I realize my journey out west has come to an end.
Stay tuned for FLAYED ACROSS AMERICA: PART DEUX, where my voyage continues in the Big Apple. Giddy up.
Friends and colleagues,
I'm back in the ATL after a whirlwind August that included stints and Vegas and New York. Did you miss me? Don't answer that. You're probably wondering why I'm jetsetting across this great nation, getting all transcontinental on your ass while you sit at home eating Wheat Thins and burrata cheese and whatnot. Well, the purpose of my travels is namely:
B to the F.L.A.Y. The Bob-man! The Flayster! Flay-o-rama! Bob-o-rino! Call him what you will, this grandmaster-chef is the hollandaise on my egg scramble. The creme fraiche on my chocolate souffle. The balsamic reduction on my pecan-encrusted fig tarts. Do you have a menu? Anyways, I've traveled pretty far, my friends, across mountainous terrain, through darkened city streets, across lakes and streams and fjords. My trusty camera has been my greatest companion through this voyage. In the spirit of Flay himself, I present my latest photo documentary, FLAYED ACROSS AMERICA, PART UNE. Ahem:
Our first stop, Mesa Grille at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. Couldn't get a reservation here, but I was able to scope out the interior for Flay with my acute 20/20 vision. No Flay in site. Settled for picture in front of giant backlit sign.
While hanging a right around the side of the establishment, I come across a smaller sign and grab another photo op. In 100-degree heat with feet blisters, you can see that I'm starting to get weary, but I continue on with a determined spirit.
During the last leg of my Vegas trek, I come across this old, tattered photograph of Flay in his early twenties. Great historical find. Note look of content and relief as I realize my journey out west has come to an end.
Stay tuned for FLAYED ACROSS AMERICA: PART DEUX, where my voyage continues in the Big Apple. Giddy up.
# posted by Tiney @ 2:58 PM 
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Hooray! A post from Tine! Tine, what can I say. If I ever run into the Flaymeister, I'm going to have him sign a big container of Barrata cheese, and it will say "To Tina...I would travel cross country to see you, too".
Tine, I am equally as obsessed with the Flay. I'm so sorry I hurt you the other day when I told you that my Food Network moles described him as an "ass". Perhaps I misunderstood and they meant "finely-tuned, cheese-loving piece of ass"?
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