The culinary world is always trying to find new ways to delight its customers. I mean, make money. And I was fortunate enough to discover the next next next thing at an Italian restaurant only two nights ago.
I won’t name this fine establishment just yet, as they no doubt are trying this new technique out in previews before launching it with a major media campaign. Perhaps featuring some famous epicureans, such as the Olsen twins.
Here’s how I lucked upon this scoop.
One of my two dining companions, a nice man despite one’s original impression, ordered a simple salad.
It arrived promptly and he tucked in.
Very shortly afterwards, he realized there was someone very keen on sharing his salad. An ant. A very self-confident ant. The little thing wandered around his lettuce as if it was looking to buy it.
Naturally, we called the waiter over. He took the offending plate and rushed away with it.
Then came the manager, who had failed to get a part in the Sopranos only because his hair wasn’t quite dated enough.
” Sir,” he said to my friend. ” All of our salads are organic. So you can expect to find ants and snails.”
It was as if we were visitors from out of town. Or, even worse, tourists.
Perhaps that is why this majordummo felt confident enough to add the part about snails, shortly before offering my friend $7 towards his dessert.
Now, all three of us shop at the very fine store not a mile from this alarmingly educative restaurant, where we regualrly buy organic salads.
AND THEN WE WASH IT.
So that no ants and snails get stuck to our tonsils.
The majordummo’s no doubt enviable market research must have told him that there is a huge number of people who, perhaps because of Al Gore, are desperate to be closer to the wild.
Either that, or he’s an ignorant, podgy old tosser.
But when you’ve been pond life for as long as I have, you tend to get a little annoyed with someone whose holiness seems to have more holes than a fishnet.
So as I lie on the surface of this water newly populated by West Nile mosquitoes, I am, in my mind penning a letter to the owner.
I hope he’s not a pedant.