For four days, I have entertained and celebrated; I have drunk and dined. I have wallowed in decadence. I shall never eat again.

Thursday I warmed up with baked brie and a black & tan at Fado, then moved to the main event at The Grill From Ipanema: peixe a bahiana. For those unlucky souls who’ve never tried a Brazilian moqueca, the Bahiana style is a heavenly, nearly overpowering mix of tomatoes, cilantro, coconut milk, and palm oil. Peixe = fish. It was a school night, after all, so I passed on the caipirinhas.

Friday we took in a performance by erstwhile child prodigy/violin virtuoso Joshua Bell and the National Symphony Orchestra. Two whiny girls sat down behind us with their father, berating him for buying “the worst seats in the whole place!” I gritted my teeth and sank in my seat. But I warmed up considerably when I realized that they were orchestra nerds (“Is he going to be the assistant concertmaster?”) who were smitten with Joshua (that teen dream – who’d a thunk it?)

Afterwards, we dined very fashionably late at Jaleo on tapas both fria and caliente: asparagus with creamy tomato sauce, caramelized Vidalia onions sprinkled with gorgonzola, pan-seared tuna, artichoke hearts tossed with capers, tiny chorizos on skewers with garlic mashed potatoes. Oh, and don't forget the calamares en su tinta: Squid in their own ink. Normally I am mature and willing to experiment, but -- eww.

Saturday night we attended Jae’s wedding at the Ballroom in Maryland. (Photos to come.)

Sunday we cruised the Potomac on the Odyssey with our out-of-town guest. The jazz band played while I scarfed down cocktail shrimp, crabcakes, and chocolate cake from the brunch buffet. You would think I would have been ready for a fast, but no no no. The all-you-can-drink champagne was flowing into my glass flute, and all dietary inhibitions were tossed overboard.

Those were tough acts to follow, but I finished the weekend on just the right note: four Brooklyn Pilsners and a Jumbo Slice from Pizza Mart.