My Dinner with Claude

A dinner to remember. No romantic rendez vous, nevertheless an incomparable treat. At one of Ubud’s top-tier joints.

Several seating areas on multiple levels, each overlooking a densely-packed jungle view. Dolby surround sounds of leaves rustling, and a rushing river below. Downstream from this town’s historical juncture.

A Balinese festival ensures that more than the usual display of offerings adorns the shrine.

Candelight. Ornamental sconces & painted tin tiles on the ceiling – lending the bar an old-world European flair.

Jazz standards and ceiling fans encircling guests. Daybeds puffed up with matching pillows.

Fine linens and cutlery. A scent of flowers. Staff decked out in their finest traditional Balinese duds.

Roasted almonds, tuna sashimi and a super savory cauliflower dish. Hot tomato rosemary buns with butter. Breadsticks. Served with a mojito and gin martini.

Then a barramundi, danced around by a whirl of creamy potatoes, curlicued sauces trailing along the dish. Chardonnay, s’il vous plait?

A nod of the head signals agreement to share the final course – a decadent dessert comprised of sugar, chocolate, ice cream and a bit more sugar, in case the sweet tooth’s appetite is not quite whetted.

I’m in foodie heaven. A finer meal I’ve not had in ages. My taste buds are deliciously, deliriously and oh-so-decadently satiated.

But. It doesn’t take long before the bubble bursts, the heavens darken; and my stomach – and all that’s been ingested – spirals out of control. Dammit. Those loud, unavoidable signs.

I’m no longer floating on air. I’ve landed with a thud: OD-ed on the goods – and, more likely, on the very bads.

The whole nine yards: the wheat, the sugar, the bits of dairy and more alcohol than I’ve had in over one year. I’ve eschewed nearly all of it in such a long time that these now-foreign ingredients take the short cut in sending my gut into a tailspin.

And just like that, pffft! Gone was the candlelight effect, the dreamy dining experience, the high I expected would last at least until today. I felt as if my body had lassoed a boulder, then strapped it on to my front-side.

Sound the alarm. All systems down. Hands on deck.

Bless the activated charcoal. The detox.

Time (again!) to bid adieu to butter. Sayonara, sugar. And if you didn’t know: What’s With Wheat?