Color me a hypocrite after my "entitlement" post, but I've schemed my way into a very good, very promising dining situation. You see, my NY friends--as lovely as they are--are all very busy this upcoming weekend. They are all swamped in a sea of finals, roommates with finals, and finals with roommates. I felt that my arrival--for my Juilliard interview--would be a bit of an imposition.

Which is how I convinced my parents, who just returned from NY yesterday, to repack their luggage and escort me on my trip. Let me explain: this required very little arm-twisting. My mother had hinted at the prospect from the very beginning: "Are you sure you don't want us to come?" And this way, now, I can have the luxury of a hotel room and--as the title suggests--the indulgence of many fine meals for you to enjoy vicariously.

People, I'm not doing this for myself. Do you think I want to eat these meals? If I had it my way, we'd be eating Raman noodles and microwavable pizza. But I answer to a higher calling. I have been chosen by Jehovah to serve as a food prophet here on Earth. If that means eating at some of New York's best restaurants, taking pictures, and writing about it--so be it. Who am I to question my mission?

Whether I'll be able to post from my hotel room is up in the air, but suffice it to say there will be some lip-smacking posts this weekend. Woohoo! (With sincere apologies to the nation's poor, for whom I still plan a revolution.)