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Why did I do this to myself?

So I've been at a work conference all week and haven't done any cooking. On the bright side, it's been nice to not have to worry about cleaning the kitchen, planning meals, prepping, cooking, plating, cleaning, buying, planning, prepping, cooking, plating, and cleaning all the fucking time. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy doing it all. Well, maybe not the goddamn cleaning, but the rest of it.
Anyway, on our last night in Orlando, we had a vendor take us to dinner at STK, and to say that it was a life changing experience may be an understatement. The evening started off well enough with a Czech cab. It was a little dryer than I expected, almost with an Italian bent to it, but I'm no fucking sommelier. As we sipped on the wine, we perused the menu and made our selections.
The bread service came first. It was a couple of fairly ordinary loaves topped with some garlic and herb butter and accompanied by some chimichurri. Nothing spectacular, but pretty damn tasty nonetheless.
Our table's appetizer was "deconstructed" bacon wrapped shrimp. First off, I fucking hate the term "deconstructed;" that, to me, implies that it was constructed and then taken a part. The shrimp was never wrapped in the bacon. Let's just call it "non-constructed" or "preconstructed" or some shit like that. Second, that junt was fucking fire. The shrimp was perfect, the bacon was literally slices of pork belly somewhere between 1/4 and 1/2 inches thick, and the slaw underneath was perfectly adequate. Sorry, but coleslaw has to be really fucking special to tip my meter.
Sides were served family style. The asparagus was alright. I mean, it was fucking asparagus, which has never been one of my favorites. We had crispy Brussels sprouts that were fried with more of that ridiculously thick bacon, and a bowl of truffle fries that were pretty tasty. Enjoyable, but not the best thing I've ever put in my mouth.
With the sides, however, came the entrees, and I had 5 ounces of Japanese A5 fillet cooked to a temperature of blue because if I'm eating something that's 47 fucking dollars per ounce, I'm going all fucking out. It was seasoned simply: some salt and some pepper. It was cooked to perfection. It was the single best piece of cow meat I've ever put in my mouth. One of my ex-girlfriend's dumbass sisters used to talk about living wagyu beef because it was so much better, then would make dry-ass, overseasoned burgers from Aldi ground beef. This was not that bullshit. It was perfection, melting in my mouth with intense, yet not overpowering, flavor. It was damn near a religious experience. Like, how does one ever eat beef again after something like this? 
Somewhere along the way, we switched to the welschriesling, which was a semi-sweet white. For some reason, it reminded me of a German or Austrian wine. It was fine. That's fucking steak, though. I couldn't get it out of my head..
We has desserts and cocktails. I still couldn't get over that steak. I kept going over it in my head, analyzing every detail. See, that's the other thing about not cooking: I spend a lot of time thinking about food, and I've got a few ideas about how to recreate that incredible first bite of fancy-ass magic cow meat with a lower quality piece of beef. And I'm gonna make that shit work. Just wait and see.
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