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
The Sir Letters 