“Now Just $1 a day for a 25k Life-Policy,” said the subject line.
Then followed this inexplicable barrel of blather:
I’ll always remember the night you swept me off e654339265b51 fc872b75502d5945d95 my feet. You didn’t have to flaunt what you’ve got by being surrounded by limos and flashing lights, nor did you have to whisper sweet nothings in my ear and make false promises of how great you are, like other restaurants. No, instead you were just you, the definition of New York City sophistication — sleek, refined, and confident. The second I walked inside, I knew I was in love with you. Your spacious, chic atmosphere made me feel elegant (in no way out of place in my fancy black dress) yet comfortable at the same time. And, as soon as our waitress opened with “I think [same damned 32-digit number] champagne is the best way to start almost any occasion — a dinner, a night out, breakfast,” I knew I was in for a great night. Actually, I offered up the breakfast comment, but she laughed and agreed, which made me feel more relaxed than that first glass of [sd32n] champagne. I could go on and on like [sd32n] Shakespeare and count the ways I love you, but really when it comes down to it, there is one thing that absolutely stole my heart — the food. It is rare that I can say this, but every single one of the 8 dishes of the CHEFS TASTING MENU blew me out of the water, not only in terms of presentation, which was the finest presentation I’ve ever laid eyes on, but also in your choice [sd32n] and quality of ingredients (managing to keep things somewhat seasonal, yet metropolitan at the same time), the combination of flavors, and finally, your execution. Of note, the FOIE GRAS with bing [sd32n] cherry chutney, almond, purslane, and celery was smooth, creamy, and rich enough to leave me satisfied with my portion without wanting more. The RED KING SALMON with citrus cured sorrel, olive oil confit with smoked caviar and a Meyer lemon coulis was deliciously light and refreshing. The BABY SQUID made me feel good about eating infants, as it was perfectly cooked [sd32n] and paired with Mediterranean ingredients which complimented the chewy texture of the squid. Finally, and most importantly, the LIBERTY FARMS DUCK BREAST was the best duck I’ve ever tasted — perfectly crisped skin, tender, moist, with a roasted plum to bring out its natural sweetness and a [sd32n] rich reduction that didn’t overshadow the rest of the plate. Daniel, to put it simply, you [sd32n] had me at “hello.” No really, you did, literally, as I actually got the opportunity to say “hello” to Daniel Boulud himself and have a lively 15 minute conversation (in French!) with the celebrity chef after most of the other diners had cleared the restaurant. It was at that moment, at the end of the night, when I knew this had been one of the best dining experiences of my life, rivaled only by the French Laundry. Daniel, how can I ever forget you? My only hope is that I have the opportunity to see you again next year. Until then, you’ll [sd32n] be in my thoughts.
Quite apart from the fact that I never, ever get email that contains the phrase “I love you” and presumably never will, I can’t fathom what that ridiculous 32-digit number is for; I suppose it’s a hash of some sort, but what’s the point of sending me a hash?
And weirder yet, following that block of text is a block starting with <style> and consisting of several hundred presumed tags, but tags that don’t exist in HTML: among them are <Trieste>, <Woonsocket> and <Nerf>. Perhaps they work in NSA’s custom browser.
Daniel Boulud, however, is a real celebrity chef. He would not have been amused by my chicken-strip salad dinner last night.
Disclosure: This is not exactly the 32-digit number that was sent. No sense giving them — whoever “they” are — the idea that they accomplished something.