Birthday Dinner: Eat Full Fat and Eat Less?

Happy Humpday!

As you know, yesterday, the hubby took me to dinner for my birthday. He picked Claim Jumper, which was new to both of us, since I don't think it's a Midwest Chain as far as I know. So, we went not at all knowing what kind of food they had. Normally, I'd look it up online, but the restaurant was a surprise, so I had to play it Sally on the spot.

We get there and the atmosphere is family-oriented, but they took us to a booth in the back. It had the illusion of privacy, however, there was an adorable little girl with blonde curls who found us utterly fascinating and stood there watching us (about 4 inches from our table) almost the entire dinner. What can you do? :)

So, those of you who KNOW Claim Jumper probably already know it's not my typical food fare. I swear the moment I opened the menu I felt my clothes get tighter (!). Regardless, it was my birthday, and i'll eat if i want to. Perusing, I realize there actually wasn't a single healthy entree unless I wanted a salad, which I didn't, or did the whole this on the side, no this, add that routine and have the disgruntled cook spit in my food. No thanks. I prefer my birthday dinners spit-less.

Ryan ordered a chicken quesadilla appetizer. It had avocado and onions, so thankfully I didn't eat it at all. (I like neither.) For his meal, he ordered a porterhouse steak, baked potato and cheese bread. Since every single piece of meat on the menu was either slathered in sauce or encrusted with some kind of scrumptious carb, I decided to order what I love and get on with it. So, Chicken and broccoli alfredo it was. The small portion, which was STILL too much and came with garlic-cheese bread on the side (carbs anyone?).

And ya know what? It was DELICIOUS and I ate like a 1/4 of it because the pasta was so filling. First, I ate out all the broccoli and a lot of the chicken and then some of the noodles. There was enough left for Ryan to take for lunch today. After dinner, they brought me a red velvet cupcake (free on your birthday) and I had room for a couple bites (eh. not so tasty). I walked out of there satisfied, but without that AWFUL stuffed-to-the-gills, everyone get out of my way before I burst out of these pants feeling.

I'd call that an eating success. Maybe there is something to that whole French principle of eating full fat. After all, French women don't get fat... and, by golly, neither do Birthday Girls. :)

toodles,
-j

P.S. Our roommie took a pic of us before we went to dinner. I'll post later. Also, I PROMISE to update on Indiana in my next post. xoxo