As stated in a previous letter, I ordered an appetizer in my ‘Ah-mer-i-cun’ speak. My scallops morphed into a salad much to my confusion. In order to rectify the situation, I was brought a salad and scallops (I was full before we even had our entrée).
As I was tasting the scrumptious scallops, I bit upon something hard. I spat it out and inspected the offensive object. You took it from me and also gave it your thorough attention. It appeared to be a small piece of plastic. You called the waiter over, and added to his embarrassment after the appetizer kerfuffle by showing him the piece of plastic that was in my dish of scallops.
As an apology, the waiter brought over a very nice glass of port after our meal. As a non-alcoholic drinker, I laughed at the irony. I took a small sip of port just to say I did then I pushed the glass over your way. You took one for the team and happily consumed the conciliatory glass of hootch. That’s my stalwart Sir.
I love you dearly and most sincerely.
My Over Egged Darling
Yes you did get it all when it came to entrees at that particular establishment, both salad and scallops. But let’s be honest you were always a “have your cake and eat it too” kind of girl.
The scallops were scrumdiddlyumptious as I recall. Looking back at it now I think the piece of plastic may have actually been one of the chemical “rocks” they add to hydroponically grown vegetables. I may very well be wrong but it seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation for how it got there. Regardless, it most certainly did not belong anywhere in your meal.
As for the tasty glass of fortified wine proffered by way of apology, it really did seem the least they could. I’m not sure I would have been able to stop at one though. I have always been a “nothing exceeds like excess” kind of guy.
Once when we dined out, I ordered scallops, in my damn Yankee speak, as an hors d’oeuvre. The waiter brought us our appetizers and placed a salad before me. He noticed the confusion on my face and asked if the salad wasn’t to my liking. I told him the salad looked great, but it wasn’t what I ordered. You informed him that I had ordered scallops in your proper Australian accent. The waiter sheepishly stated that he thought I said ‘salad.’ I suppose it was easier for him to guess what I said instead of asking for clarification from the Australian man sitting across from me. Or maybe it was a pride thing?
You thought it was hysterical. We both laughed, and it’s a great memory for us now. This wasn’t the only faux pas that happened to us during our many dining experiences, but I will save them for another letter. Suffice it to say I still like scallops and salad. I’m versatile that way.
This is not a salad.
My Ravenous Darling
You have nothing like a damn Yankee accent. In fact I would be hard pressed to establish what region you hail from based on your accent alone. I am sure your speech patterns have a very proper name, something like “North American uninflected” or other such guff. I have no idea what it’s really called but it is certainly not southern and definitely not Yankee.
I fear the problem came when you said out loud “scallops.” Here in Australia it is pronounced with a soft “a” whereas your pronunciation was much harder. Therefore to his tender ears it would have sounded like “scallops” with the “cal” part sounding the same as it would in “California,” whereas here in Australia the “a” is pronounced as an “o.” The “cal” sounds the same as it would in “collar.” Therefore to represent it phonetically it would read “scollops.” To his delicate hearing it sounded closer to “salad” than “scallops.”
Clearly you had an issue with seafood while you were here my love. Between the oysters and the scallops our culinary world was rising up against you. I know you prevailed, however you even lived to tell the tale.