timothyx

On the first visit in months to our once favourite watering hole, the nato, we discovered their new menu was about to be released, and much to our collective delight, the one and only Lamb Fuck Yeahs (aka shanks) were not only back on the menu, but back on the 2-for-1 weekend menu!

Our mouths watered in anticipation of an all-out shank-fest while we dined on Tuesdays $12 pizza’s and put plans in place to bring back the shanks in style. Such a momentous occasion deserved and equally momentous celebration so the inaugural Shanksgiving was set for the coming Saturday, time was short and we had much promotion work to do. Rob set about telling one and all of Shanksgiving 2008, a holy time of the year where friends gather to celebrate delicious slow cooked lamb just falling of the bones of some innocent baby sheep, by drinking copious amounts of alcohol and jamming their faces with forkfuls of meat and veg.

The evening arrives and we head up to meet everyone at the nato while rob remains at home waiting for his female entourage. Nat & cass order themselves a pair of parmies in their own return to 2-for-1 celebration and we line up to order our delicious shanks. Jo and gez are the last to order and as they do, they receive some disheartening and deliciously ironic news, jo had scored the last set of shanks, leaving rob and his dream girl (whom are attending Shanksgiving on rob’s promise of succulent shanks), completely shankless.

We settle in on the couches with a few drinks and nervous anticipation of robs arrival impending shank inspired meltdown. As a group we agree to let staff tell him the bad news for fear of a brutal shank rage attack. Our buzzer buzzes and we sit down with delicious 2-for-1 meals ready for devouring, as rob finally arrives we stuff our mouths with shank goodness to muffle our nervous laughing, rob hits the counter and is delivered possibly the saddest news ever delivered, no shanks on Shanksgiving. Its like waking up with no presents and a swift kick to the grapes on Christmas morning.

As my heart bled watching rob eat a plate of harbour harvest irony, i let him sample my shanks, just enough to let him know what he is missing, with the aim of preventing embarrassing tears as he gets to witness jo, olly and i food rape the plates of shanks in front of us.

With no sign of meat left on the bone we relax back into another round of beers, telling tales of a splendid Shanksgiving, laughing and reminiscing of meals past.