I was convinced to go out again. This time it appeared to be a more proper -- what is the word? -- restaurant. There were no fried potatoes ... french fries ... at the table this time. There was a standard potato that had been baked and there were mashed potatoes, albeit different from the mashed potatoes I am accustomed to.
These, thankfully, were recognizable. In truth, they needed salt, which was provided. But that was all. They were smooth, nearly creamy, and not rough with skins still on them. Both are good. Both are easily recognized as potatoes.
I will not comment on the meat on this table. It is what was unrecognizable. Again. Though there were smells coming from other places in the restaurant that indicated real meat was actually cooked there and not forced into more unrecognizable shapes.
I wonder how it would be to get a look inside one of their kitchens.
Here's to me, and here's to you,
And here's to love and laughter-
I'll be true as long as you,
And not one moment after.
Be well.
2 comments:
Hey Kier Honey, You never want to go into the kitchens of resturants, you may never eat in one again. I would know, I was the waitress from heaven although most of the customers might disagree. But I would humbly serve you, even though I do out rank you, I am a queen after all.
Love ya,
Stella (who is using Mikey's computer because he won't get me one.)
You could be right, Stella. Perhaps that is a curiosity best left unsatisfied.
Be well.
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