Food/porn

Back in the late ’80s when I was still in college, there was this joint located right across the road from La Salle Taft that our be-acned cabal frequented. It called itself an “eatery” or something like that, but what it was, in fact, was a beerhouse. I have no idea if it’s still around, but for reference there was a diner next door that catered less to culinary appetites and more to the baser ones (or maybe it depends on who you ask — they certainly had an impressive library of porn films for rent, and persistent rumor had it that a sex den operated upstairs; anyone among my college chums care to shed light on this one?).

Oh, how I miss my college days… Most afternoons would find us in said eatery chugging down Red Horse Beer and generally getting wasted (or “kicked,” as Red Horse enthusiasts like to put it). I once spent an entire term matriculating there as I rode out a suspension. Those were the days, indeed.

…And now I’m afraid I have forgotten what the point to this recollection is. I’m sure it has something to do with the photo above — ah, here it is: Like I said, the beerhouse purported to be an eatery. Strangely enough, the only food I remember eating there (and I’m not asking you to trust my memory) were deep-fried onion rings and cheese sticks, greasy as Mike Arroyo’s fingers and served with a mayo-ketchup dip. It occurred to me during lunch yesterday, as I was munching on my third (or was it fifth?) fried four-cheese ravioli — it occurred to me just how far I had come since those days, yet how little my dietary habits had changed. Sure, I hardly drank beer anymore, but I was still gorging on fried carbs stuffed and smothered with saturated fat, was I not?

Pfft. I kill myself. I really do.

UPDATE (8.30.08): The old chums have piped in: Bahay Fastfood and D’Art (Sir Art’s?). I was also reminded that Bahay specialized in steak a lá pobre and sisig. No word about the upstairs sex den. Damn.