Our Little Outing: Part Two

You all thought our Sunday ended with cherry limeade stains and sore feet. Oh, sweet friends, how I wish you were right.

Hubs had planned for our day of geocaching to end in a nice steak dinner. I don't know if he was really in the mood for steak or just thought the suggestion of taking me out for dinner would encourage me to go treasure hunting. You know, kind of like dangling the carrot, only it was a fillet Mignon.

I brushed my hair in the car and dusted off my boots before we went in, something I never thought I'd do before a dinner out. However, in SmallTown country, many people wear boots to dinner. I just decided to clean mine with the leftover Wet Ones.

'Cause I'm fancy.

After a good dab of face powder and a swipe of lipstick in the car, I was ready.

We got a table, ordered, and waited for our salads. I chose the salad bar and Hubs and Daughter chose the Caesar. When their salads arrived, I was doubtful.

I could tell the romaine was not fresh. Not bad, but not good either. I noticed Hubs not eating his salad.

"I smell fish," he said.

"Well, Caesar salad does have anchovy paste in the dressing," I said, "but I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to have so much that you actually notice."

That's when we noticed.

Anchovies.

Now, I'm no expert, but most of the Caesar salads I've had do not feature the whole fish. It puts it a little over the top. We all three agreed that Hubs and Daughter should not eat their salads.

Our waiter Tom noticed, too. Maybe the fact that Hubs and Daughter were just sitting there staring at their salads gave it away. He offered to get them new ones, but they declined and ate the bread.

The main entrees arrived including catfish (called the Kiddie Catfish, which we named KittyCat Fish) for Daughter, New York Strip for Hubs and a Fillet for me. Hubs' plate barely touched the table when he saw it.

A hair.

Tom checked on us and Hubs pointed to the unwanted topping.

"I am so sorry, let me bring you another one."

"No, thanks."

"No, really. I'll have them make you another steak."

This is when I chimed in.

"You don't know. I am sure he's lost his appetite."

"Yes," Hubs said,"I have this thing about hair on my food."

Poor Tom The Waiter took away the hair with the steak around it and walked away. Meanwhile, Daughter was halfway through her KittyCat Fish dinner. I began to apologize and comfort Hubs profusely, even though there was nothing I could do.

Then I cut into my steak.

It mooed.

Tom came back to our table when I said, "I really hate to do this to you, but my steak is not cooked enough. I ordered Medium Well and this is really Medium. It's a little runny."

At this point Tom realized why this waiter gig was only a part time job to get him through college and not an actual career choice.

Tom took away my steak and potato and returned moments later with a correctly cooked steak.

And no potato.

Apparently the cook decided I didn't need one and must have thrown it away as he threw my fillet back on the grill.

"Um, could I have a potato?" I asked.

Tom apologized once again, not noticing the kitchen's mistake. He offered to bring me another one.

Minutes later he returned, "The potato will take a while. I can bring you something else that is quicker if you want, but I don't want you to settle for something if that's not what you want."

Oh, we're way past settling now, Tom.

"Bring me mashed potatoes, fries, whatever. It doesn't matter. Really. This is not your fault. This is all the kitchen's fault."

Tom obliged and I quickly ate my mashed potatoes. He returned with a dessert menu, which is the restaurant's version of a peace offering.

"How about a complimentary dessert for all of your trouble?" he asked.

We all declined. Well, Hubs and I declined. Daughter pleaded with us to get dessert, but even free dessert wouldn't make us cave. At this point, we just wanted to pay our discounted check, tip Tom for his patience with us and the chefs (he was incredibly professional, considering the kitchen issues,) and go home.

The very next day I made Hubs roast and mashed potatoes for dinner. Hey, it's not New York Strip or anchovy salad, but I am happy to report it was hair and fish odor free.

I try.