In which I die, just a little bit.

Last night we went out to dinner to celebrate my dad's 72nd birthday. My mom suggested we dine at Italian Restaurant X because it's nice enough to attract a crowd of Italian expats but they also do this serious oak-fired brick oven pizza that will go around well among the grandchildren. This restaurant is not "white linen tablecloth" nice, but rather "authentic trattoria" nice. The wine list is a single page, that sort of thing.

So, being a pack of Iberics (except my niece, who is 1/2 Irish) in an Italian restaurant, we order wine. It is a sad testament to the state of my family that one bottle went around to five adults. The sad fact is that my sister, the person to whom I ceded the womb space in which I had floated cheerfully for +/- 9 months, doesn't drink and doesn't like drinking and if she had a full glass of wine would be--and I'm being as serious as a heart attack here--roaring, bed-spins, drunk. So she got a half-glass to be sociable, but that was it.

She also has other issues, like hating pasta.

Meanwhile, my children were happily, greedily decimating a large platter of fried calamari.

See, I realize I'm a foodie weirdo. I got it, OK? Still, it pains me to see people order all kinds of weirdness. I don't blame the restaurant for having all sorts of trendy stuff on the menu which they translate to Italian to palm off as authentic. After all, they have a buck to make. So, I sat, surrounded by children, eating the carpaccio al funghi and the mussels steamed in Cinzano while people wrestled with smoked salmon pasta and sesame-crusted tuna. Oy.

Am I the only person who suffers so?

-J.

Comments

Lazy cow said…
Sorry to say your pain made me laugh. My husband is always hissing at me in pubs (which we visit infrequently because I HATE them) "order the steak or chicken parmie, don't order pasta or SEAFOOD for God's sake". So I order the calamari. Shoot me.
You're not alone. We went to a new Italian restaurant that's a current hot spot in town. They serve an appetizer that is, I kid you not, fried wanton skins covered with Italian sausage, mozarella, avocado, sour cream and olives...Italian meets Mexican and Chinese. Ugh! We won't return.
blackbird said…
I've just really had it with the damn sesame crusted tuna...it was on teeny breads as finger food at the wedding I just attended.

And no, you are not alone - we went Japanese last night and my poor brother blanched at the sight of K's hamachi kama. He had the 'teriaki chicken' which I AM SURE is authentic Japanese.
Badger said…
Okay, either this is some bizarre coinkydink, or you are stealing my material again.

Not that I mind. I'm just sayin'.

Do not EVEN get me started on my extended family, including my uncle who will only eat hamburgers at restaurants. That's it. That's all he will order. If they don't serve hamburgers, we can't take him there.

Oh my God, I need another pill just thinking about it.
MsCellania said…
Oh, gosh. I used to feel your pain. Then I married the Man of My Dreams, a 'meat n taters' veggie (I am not kidding, this man would eat mac n cheese OUT OF THE BLUE BOX 7 nights a week) and had 2 sons (4 and 5) whose palettes are less than adventurous. I was actually saying "Oh, Sesame crusted Tuna at the pizza joint!" with some delight, as at least I could eat it (carbos are not my friend).

I am hoping at some point to get out enough to restaurants (that aren't Red Robin) so I have the opportunity to spurn and snicker at menu offerings again. In the meantime, I'll live vicariously through your blog.

And btw, how's TFBUM coming along on those remodeling plans for kitchen and bath?! ;)
daysgoby said…
Chinese in these parts is particularly awful. Egg rolls are filled with ground hamburger (and this is everywhere in NS)and the main *yummy* entree involves chicken balls.

No, not the real ones....

When we go back home in the States I stuff myself with all the Asian food I can find. I'm even reduced to eating the sushi in the terminal at O'Hare.
Canadian food is 90% blah.
julia said…
I went to a "Chinese" restaurant in Canada once. That was all it took. Chicken balls? Thank you, but no. You guys eat poutine, though, so your food tastes are suspect, to say the least.

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