Hang the Chef

Look Honey this place has 4.4 stars on Google. Let’s go there. That other place is really just one of those college meat market bars, not any good for dinner. We’ll get a nightcap if we must.

This is nice, no reservations, line out the door. Great sign. Great sign. I put our name on the list. Should be an hour or so. Let’s grab a glass of wine at that tasting room around the corner.

This was a great idea. Thanks for getting us out of town, even for a night. This is so nice.

That little wine place was great. That Macedonian white was lovely. Could you find Macedonia on a map? I couldn’t. Have we ever invaded them? Here we are, still fifteen minutes or so before our table is up. Let’s have a cocktail, the bar looks nice.

It’s perfect. Low lighting, mahogany bar. Short list: sidecar, Manhattan, martini, only the classics. Great sign.

Ooh it’s like we get a booth, but in kind of a cave. A cave-booth. Booth-cave?

Ah, the bread arrived before we did. Fabulous. Or is it the last party’s? It looks clean, no bites, no nibbles. Firm butter. We’ll have to risk it. No crust to speak of. Not a good sign.

Do you suppose there’s a Judo gym upstairs? Brazilian Jiu Jitsu? The second floor seems like a funny place for a riding arena.

How did you know I’d ask for the linguine alla mar? Am I that transparent? So what if we’re 700 miles from the mar. We have jet airplanes. We can have anything we want whenever we want it. This is America. I’m getting the linguine alla mar.

A salad please. Vinaigrette. Raspberry vinaigrette? Perhaps just some olive oil and vinegar. You do know about raspberry vinaigrette, yes? No? They fill old jelly jars with water do dissolve the last bits of preserves, then leave them out in the sun until they start to ferment. Voile. Raspberry vinaigrette. None for me, thanks.

Ah, lovely salad. Lovely salad. Pepper? Please. Now, this is going to be awkward. I like a lot of pepper. I haven’t forgotten that you’re here, and I do still intend to let you know when it’s enough. Let’s get used to this uncomfortable silence. Shoot. do you need to refill the mill?

Oh dear. Clams. A shellfish, as I recall. There are no shells here. Kind of you to go to all the trouble of discarding those for me. Oh dear. This will not do. This will not do. There was no jet aircraft here.

I feel like Carmella Soprano.

The butter is a nice touch. Did you consider any other flavors? Where’s that girl with the pepper mill?

These clams, I admit, are in contention for the best cat food I have ever tasted. That must be the butter.

No parsley? Red pepper? Hell, salt?

I’m so rude, I’m sorry. How is yours? Adequately buttered? Yes, mine too. Do you need a box? No? You’ve had enough.

Perhaps the check.

I’ll make eye contact here.

Missed her. Let me try again.

Maybe we should both try.

Do we pay up front? Oh, no, it said on the menu to remain seated. You’re right. How European of them.

Ooh, here she comes. Shoot. Missed her.

We are forsaken.

Aha! Got her. Here we are. Yes please. Thank you. Lovely. Cake to go, please. Yes please. Thank you.

Burn the kitchen. Hang the chef. God save the bar.

Let’s go to the meat market.



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