Scottish Dining

My Mouth Watering Darling

It was not all fine dining and gueridon service. Sometimes when we were in a hurry we partook of fast food, one of the great exports from your country to the rest of the world. There is a moment in time still fresh in my memory. Specifically a staff member struggling with the name of a fairly basic menu item. This favourite memory occurred as we dined at that fine Scottish establishment, beloved by the entire world. It has retina destroying yellow and red signage, bright migraine inducing lighting and such uncomfortable plastic furniture that the Marquis de Sade would take notes. I speak of none other than McDonalds .

When we were at Mickey D’s, as it is affectionately called here, you wanted some ketchup and the poor serving girl had no idea what that meant. I remember being a little surprised. Ketchup is not what we call it here but American popular culture has permeated our own so I assumed that everybody would still know what it was. By this time we were already seated, but you returned to the counter to get your extra. I remember you walking up to me with this strange expression on your face: it was part amusement, befuddlement and annoyance. I laughed as you explained your dilemma and advised you to ask for “tomato sauce.” You did as suggested and happily returned, not before having the last word though I might add.

Your dalliance with the previously unheard menu items, even at this most familiar of establishments, I will leave for you to tell.

Would You Like Fries With That?

From Sir With Love

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My Brogue-ish Sir,

I daresay we only dined once at the garish Mickey D’s. I had seen a sign for a “McFeast,” and I asked you what it was. I had never heard of a McFeast, and we’ve never had them in the United States (before or since). You told me that you would get one for me to try, and in we went. I just remember that it had shredded carrots on it, but I don’t recall what else. I also had my first sweet potato fries. Australia was ahead of my corner of the world with a menu of healthier choices. Kudos

When we took our food to the table, I decided that I wanted KETCHUP for my fries. I went back to the front counter and asked for some. The girl looked at me strangely and didn’t oblige. I walked back to you confused. You saw the look on my face and asked me what was wrong. I informed you that the employee didn’t seem to know what KETCHUP was when I asked for it. You laughed and told me to go back and ask for “tomato sauce” (pronounced to-mah-toe sauce) which I did. She handed me packets of KETCHUP and I made sure she knew it. Don’t even get me started on fry sauce (go ahead and Google it).

You were still laughing when I returned with my KETCHUP, and still couldn’t believe the girl didn’t know what KETCHUP was. There’s no accounting for a vast vocabulary bank.

Saucily yours,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir

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Gag Me With a Raw Oyster

To hear Darling and Sir read their letters please click on the greetings.

 My Delectable Darling

Food played a massive part in your time here. One of your first and most memorable culinary adventures was your experience with oysters. Really in this case it should be singular and not plural, so from henceforth I shall refer to it as oyster. On your second day we rode a Sydney Harbour ferry to Watsons Bay. This is a fairly exclusive suburb populated by the well to do. It is also home to an iconic Sydney seafood restaurant named Doyles. It was here we dined, and where you had your first experience with the dreaded oyster.

I know I goaded you into eating one. I always order mine natural and just have some cracked pepper and fresh lemon with them. Normally when someone first tries oysters I suggest they have them cooked (not raw) either Kilpatrick or mornay is often the safest bet. I feel a little guilty knowing I ordered them natural for you. You no doubt had your dander up and I was responding in kind. The look of disgust on your face was priceless. Your desire to show no fear was a delight. Your attempt to eat one was simply magic. Your failure to do so was my personal triumph (does that read like an advertisement for MasterCard?) What I think I enjoyed the most though was your description. After your brave attempt to swallow ONE oyster, it still brings tears of laughter to my eyes. Your words: “It was like a reverse loogie!”

Deliciously Yours

From Sir With Love

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  My Dear Sly Sir,

I can actually hear your laughter ringing in my ears as I read your words. You, Sir, are evil incarnate. I had told you that I liked oyster soup, so I guess you assumed that I would like the raw, slimy version. There is a huge difference between the cooked versus the raw kind. I still think you had an ulterior motive, my love.

I distinctly recall you telling me to just try one, and if I didn’t like it you’d happily consume the rest. I think I just realized your ulterior motive. I remember looking at the platter in dismay and at the gelatinous globs of slime thinking, “You want me to swallow that?!” Then I glanced at your face, and I knew you would not best me. Even though your face was sincere and solemn, the twinkle in your eye was a dead give-a-way.

You demonstrated the correct way to slurp that sucker down. You lifted the shell to your lips and gobbled it in one swift movement. You made it look easy enough. I reached for a shell and you picked up your second one. I believe you said cheers, and we clinked the shells together. I followed suit and attempted to have my first raw oyster.

Words can never express the horror of that moment. I shudder to this very day remembering the feeling and texture of that lump of snot that got wedged in my throat. I started gagging and choking. I couldn’t get it up or down. In between your fits of laughter, you thumped me on the back in an effort to help me extricate that vile piece of mucous. I finally dislodged it from my mouth and spat it on the ground in disgust. A stray dog hurried over and lapped it up, adding to my revulsion. As you correctly stated, I announced to you that it felt like a reverse loogie!

You kindly offered to order me some other delicacy, but my appetite had vanished completely. I was suspicious at this point, knowing you’d order me something else just as nasty. In an attempt to quell your mirth and to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, I remember telling you that I wouldn’t kiss a mouth that ate raw oysters. You just smiled and knew I was bluffing, because you leaned over and laid one on me right then and there.

Your kiss was nearly enough to make me forget this incident – nearly. You’re such a devil.

Innocently yours,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir