An Ode To Restaurant Week

Inspired by my Restaurant Week lunch at Quality Meats

A rustic wooden door in Midtown West:

Quality Meats, distinguish from the rest.

I anticipate a feast,

Or an above average meal, at least.

The appetizers: scallops--seared, not greased--

Once inside my mouth they melt.

Then comes the skirt steak, whose mere sight is felt.

I challenge you not to unhook your belt.

A subtle gravy, it's mate.

Out pops dessert, and not a second late.

Three courses, plus Malbec, at such a rate!

I bow to you, Restaurant Week.

Food this good is worth losing your physique.

How did I become such a foodie freak?
Cheers to you, New York City. 

Note: I am aware that this is an irregular ode since it lacks the three-part form of the classic Pindaric ode.