EatsPorkJew

Part 2 of 2

This is the second part of a two part series about two hilarious massages I received in South Florida on separate occasions. First piece published here.

More recently I was in Miami with Jonathan for a weekend. He was there for a board meeting for a non-profit he’s involved with, and I took the opportunity to visit with my great Aunt Ellie. There was a break in our schedules and Jonathan found an on-demand massage service online called Soothe, and he reserved a masseuse who could come to our hotel within the hour. We had a large hotel suite and figured we’d treat ourselves to a couple’s massage. So we did.

The two guys arrived and unfolded their massage tables. Around the room they placed a mini Jawbone stereo, some washcloths, and a teal aromatherapy candle the kind you find in the housewares section of Ross stores because they smell like the complimentary air freshener you get at the carwash. They offered us a choice of lotion or oil, and we explained where we needed them to focus their pressure most. We discussed the intensity of the massage we each prefer.

“If you could focus on my shoulder blades, neck, and hamstrings,” I said, “and push somewhere between six and seven.” And then they left the room while we adjusted under the sheet and we got started.

Aside from the bar across the headrest hitting my chin every time he pushed down on my head with his hands like he was trying to smother; the first 35 minutes were excellent. It was the right amount of pressure where I was tense and knotted, his movements were smooth and his hands warm. But then he started to do this move where he jammed his elbow into my lower back and slowly pulled it up towards my head as he followed the curve of my spin. And at the end of each stoke his forearm dropped as he extended his arm, and his hand gently tickled the top of my butt. This was a new one for me, but since this was only my tenth or so massage, I wasn’t sure if that was just one of those stylistic things that some masseuses use to create an interesting sensation? Like when they massage your hands and finish by drawing a circle with their fingertips in your palm just before gently placing it back at your side. It tickles and feels nice. Besides, I haven’t spent enough time in South Beach to know if that was normal or not? Café con leche for breakfast, empanadas for lunch, and a tushy tickle just before dinner. If I’m being totally honest….I liked the tushy tickle. How often does one get their ass tickled by a stranger? Exactly. So I ignored it.

Ignoring what came next was considerably more challenging.

Eventually he started working below the waist and on my hamstrings. Up and down he massaged my IT-band with his fists, each time getting a little closer to my ass cheek as he started in the side of leg just above the knee and came up the leg before coming and up and over my but cheek. Then he changed the technique a little, and on the same trajectory only now in the opposite direction, he used his fingers like he was kneading pasta dough as he applied pressure from just below my but cheek at the top of my inner thigh and moved down to the back of my knee. This he continued for about a minute, each time starting a little higher up my but and going deeper into the cavern that is my ass—a place where even I don’t go willingly—before coming out and up to the back of my leg where my knee bends. The first few times I was shocked. Frozen like a skunk in headlights. Confused as to whether or not I should clench or giggle or grunt. Did I want him to know I was hyper sensitive to the region? Or was I just overreacting? And just when I decided it was a mistake and that I’m probably reading too much into it—he swiped my chode. [or taint if your from the east coast] That’s when I was certain something was a little off. And when he repeated the process on the other side, I had all the evidence I needed to know it wasn’t a mistake, but that my butt, was actually his intention.

My mind raced the entire time. I wondered if I should say something or if I should wait for him to give me a prostate exam before I popped my head up in protest and said, “ok, that’s enough!” But then I wondered if he was qualified to give prostate exams? And if he was, maybe that would be a free service he provided on top of the massage. I’m all about killing to two birds with one gallstone—but this guy didn’t look like a proctologist.

It didn’t seem like Jonathan was aware of what was happening either. I played it out in my head and wondered what would happen if I said something and whether or not he’d get possessive about someone else touching me that way or if he’d be into it or something. I hoped it would have been the former, but then I imagined us both naked in the room, with Jonathan full of rage, tossing tables and chairs and screaming….and that wasn’t a scene I wanted to incite. I thought for sure the other masseuse could see what was going on. We were on tables right next to each other and there was plenty of light in the room. Surely he saw my guy’s hands disappear and then reappear from time to time…was he in on it? Was that a way of testing whether or not we wanted “happy endings”? They knew we were a gay couple. Was that massage code for if you like this, we can always go further for a little more money?

“Ok we’re going to turn you over now,” he whispered into my ear with his best Antonio Banderas. He lifted my sheet so I could flop over to my back. Here he repeated a similar tactic, making his way up my leg and eventually ran his hand between my satchel and thigh before pulling out towards my hips. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I wondered if I’d asked for this by asking him to focus on my hamstrings….and then I had a flashback to watching Lifetime movies about female rape victims and how they always wonder if they led the guy on with my girlfriends in the college dorms and how I thought the victims who didn’t speak up were so stupid for keeping it to themselves. Was I being that stupid? Can you never truly understand what it’s like to walk in another’s shoes until you’re experiencing it for yourself? Then my mind cleared, and I asked myself one question, “am I getting raped by my masseuse?”

For the remainder of the hour my jaw was clenched and my body shook, a combination of being very uncomfortable and me previously setting the A/C in the room to 62° because I selfishly prefer cold over heat and couldn’t compromise with Jonathan’s suggested temp of 69°.

“So that’s the end of the hour,” Jonathan’s guy said, “would you like us to continue?”

Jonathan looked at the time, because he would have opted for another 30 minutes given the choice, but we had to get ready for dinner and to meet our friends.

“Unfortunately we don’t have time,” he said, “but that was really great. Thank you.” And then they packed up their belongings and left.

Those are the facts folks. You be the judge.

Byblos Miami—South Beach

After my slip-and-tickle-of-a-massage, Jonathan and I scurried into our evening duds for dinner. We had reservations at Byblos, a new Eastern Mediterranean restaurant at the base of the Royal Palms Hotel in South Beach. The friend we were meeting was raving about Byblos while visiting us in San Francisco just a few weeks prior, so we figured we’d go with him and his pregnant wife when we were in town. Coincidentally, our hotel reservation was at the Royal Palm South Beach, which made getting to the restaurant a cinch.

From the exterior, the hotel is classic South Beach Miami art deco all the way. Inside, the decor is old world meets new with tons of gold and vintage metal accents around bursts of teal and corral. Fresh clean and beach-like with ties back to the mediterranean with colorful terra cotta plates and platters. The downstairs at Byblos Miami is the bar/lounge and some of the dining room, but up the candlelit stairs is the main dining room, which is spectacular. Thirty-foot ceilings, paneled wall coverings, plush velour couches, polished wood floors and golden chandeliers create a fabulous environment that feels like you’re dining at sunset on the island if Mykonos.

And as amazing as the decor is, the food is even better! We started with a few of the smaller plates.

The duck kibbeh was delicious. The ground the duck meet with dried figs and garnished it with date molasses and tahini. Make sure to ask for a little extra date molasses and tahini because some bites were a little dry.

The crispy eggplant sounded amazing so we had to try it. They lightly batter and fry sticks of eggplant and assemble them in a little stack and cover it with basturma, which is a high seasoned air-dried cured meat from the Anatolia region (Turkey). If you’re not an eggplant lover you should try this. It’s nothing like you’d think with the tahini aioli and bayildi sauce.

We got a plate of their organic house labneh and Barbari bread. The labneh is creamy and multifaceted with hints of fennel, honey, and a bright full-flavored olive oil. And we sopped it up with the Barbari bread, which is a mediterranean version of a toasted everything bagel! Yum!

Turkish manti dumplings filled with smoked eggplant and topped with a drizzle of yogurt sauce and molasses. The molasses is what really made this dish amazing, and gave it a hint of sweetness with the smoke of the eggplant.

The spanish octopus with fingerling potatoes, biber chili vinaigrette and preserved lemon was amazing. Each bite included a hint of char with a perfectly cooked piece of octopus that wasn’t rubbery and flavorless like it too often is. The vinaigrette was a burst of bright flavor elevating the butter base held up by the fingerlings. I almost ordered a second one.

We debated ordering the braised colorado leg of lamb for awhile. Allan, the one person at the table who’d ordered it before, said it was a mind-blowing experience, and that was enough to win me over. But he did say it was a lot of food, and nobody wanted to limit our chance at ordering a wider selection of smaller plates. So I pulled out my secret weapon and used Sarah’s pregnancy (Sarah is Allan’s wife who was almost full term at that time) as an excuse to order way more than we typically would. “She’s eating for two!” I said, hoping that would justify the lamb AND the entire left side of the menu. Suffice it to say, I was mildly successful and we ordered the leg of lamb (we got the smaller size they were offering) and still ordered a bunch of other stuff.

Looking back on it….yes, Allan was right, and it was a lot of food. Probably more than anyone needed, even the pregnant one, but the lamb dish was transcendent. The meat is braised and roasted for over 24 hours and by the time it comes to the table it’s succulent, full of every amazing lamb flavor you’ve tasted, and falling off the bone. The pickles and chutneys they serve it with are also delicious and are meant to cut through some of the richness of the meat. The house lavash from Byblos is also to-die-for. It’s not what you’d typically think of as lavash bread, because it’s got very little height. It’s more of a tortilla that’s got a slight more floury taste.

The sides we ordered with the braised lamb leg were the roasted brussels sprouts with cubes of Halloumi cheese (“the cheese you can grill”), tahini and yogurt.

And the Persian fried rice with sujuk, Key West shrimp and green peas.

For dessert we had the pizzelle ice cream sandwiches. Inside is baklava ice cream with perfectly baked pizzelle cookies on either side. Pizzelles are cross between a fortune cookie a sugar cone and a waffle. Each cookie is then dipped in chocolate with salted caramel and cous cous praline for some crunch.

Our waitress recommended the yogurt mousse too. A thin layer of pistachio cake with the yogurt mousse on top. Dusted with crushed pistachio and adorned with edible flower petals, they gently dressed the plate with orange blossom water, pomegranate molasses and Paradise Farms flower jam. The dessert was good, but not as amazing as the pizzelle ice cream sandwiches. But I’ll say this about both of the desserts we tried, full of flavor, definitely hit that sweet tooth spot we all desired, but not overly sweet and rich that it made us feel sick. It was refreshing without being fruit cocktail if you know what I mean.