Chef David Anthony Temple uses a torch to sear sous vide Kobe beef that’s been spritzed with a tincture made of Everclear and White Widow, a strain of marijuana, at an underground cannabis dinner recently held in Dallas.
At the table next to me, two sharply dressed 60-something married couples are on a double date, the ladies wearing fine jewelry, sipping a nice Chardonnay and laughing a little louder after every glass. Once the second course has been cleared from the table, I take a seat and introduce myself.
“I’m a doctor,” a stately gentleman with a thick accent says, “and he’s an ER doctor,” he says, pointing to the man sitting next to him. The ER doctor reaches out to shake my hand, and two courses in, I can see a faint pinkness in the whites of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “Do you have any Cheetos?”
Throughout our brief conversation, the doctor repeats his Cheetos joke two more times, each quip eliciting more laughs than the last. That’s how it goes when you’re stoned, and the 20 diners gathered for a four-course meal in a quiet Dallas neighborhood are indeed quite stoned, despite the fact that nary a joint or bowl has been lit. These friendly, put-together folks were not exactly whom I was expecting to run into at an underground cannabis dinner, but then again, given the frightening state of Texas marijuana, I never expected