As you know, Bubs and I hit up the HOPR back in March for his 40th bday. I was all bummed bc Bubs totally thwarted my plans for leaving the joint with a shit ton of leftovers. So for my bday, I was super stoked about a HOPR do over. In early May, I tried to get reservations for my bday but shit, that place was booked big time and the earliest booking I got was like June 27. WTF? Fortunately, as my charmed life would have it, the week of my bday, a slot opened up for Friday, June 10. I suspect a cancellation came in for the NBA Finals game, but hell yeah, I took what I could get!

All day, I fasted. When we arrived, I was famished. And then, the ritual began: loaf of fresh baked bread, salad with beets and drenched in Thousand Island dressing, English cut beef, creamed spinach, loaded baked potato, and Yorkshire pudding. We sat next to a couple who was there celebrating the hubby’s bday. I overheard them tell the waiter that they come every year for the splurge, and I felt like a spoiled punk already having dined twice in three months. Anyway, as I made my way course by course, by the time I got to the meat, my tummy started feeling nauseas. Oh hell no, you are NOT gonna fail me now. It is GAME TIME, baby! Was it something about the meat this time (medium well) or had I over-fasted? I dunno but shit wasn’t feeling right. J looked over and was like, are you ok? Fuck man, I will not be stopped. I just continued to get it down my pie hole. It didn’t taste bad, but somehow not as savory as last time. The waiter came by and offered the complimentary second plate. Yup, bring it on. Similar to last time when the waitress was like utterly shocked by how much I had consumed, the lady at the next table, also expressed surprise. Yeah people, I don’t back down in a buffet-like setting. If I’m gonna go, there’s only one way to do it. It’s the Chinese in me. Years of training, I tell you. Meanwhile, Bubs devoured his prime rib original cut. Homeboy should have gotten the second plate, but as usual, he refused to play my game. Instead, while I dug into my second plate, I had to endure his disgusted looks. Dude, your dirty looks aren’t gonna shame me into not doing my thang. I took a few more bites, and then I got all that shit packed up. Two full bags. Give my body the night to process everything through the system, and then the next day, I am ready to go again. The leftovers were tasty! The lesson learned here? Obviously, the 40-y/o body isn’t as robust and sturdy as the younger version. I would like to look into re-creating the salad and Yorkshire pudding at home (new inspiration). Between HOPR and the two buffets we had in Vegas with dad, I think it’s time to put buffets behind us. Kobayashi needs to retire!