I just got home from a night out with Mrs. Field. Hey it's Friday evening and there is no such thing as a home cooked meal in the field's household during a weekday. The field wanted to go to Olive Garden or KFC, but Mrs. Field had other ideas. She wanted to go fancy tonight.
Now I must confess, that I have never been into all of these really fancy restaurants. I mean presentation is great, but I just want the food to taste good, and get plenty of it. Mrs.Field, on the other hand, is into that shit, the presentation. "Oh that looks wonderful, doesn't it field?". No, it looks like it should have been in the middle of our table when we sat down. I mean are we going to eat it or take pictures of it?
So we head to one of these fancy joints on the 1600 block of Walnut Street (you folks from Philly know where this is, so you get the idea of the type of joint I am talking about ), and I tried to make a last ditch effort to get out of it by saying something like; "honey you know we need reservations for this place." But Mrs. Field, of course, had that covered. She had called earlier to make reservations for two. One wife and a sucker.
After paying $20 to valet the damn car (that could have been a bucket at KFC right there) I still had to wait 30 minutes to finally get seated. I swear everyone in the joint could hear my stomach growling by now. Then, of course, when the menu came, I didn't understand a fucking word of it. I think it was in French but I couldn't be sure. ( I swear these guys just make up their own shit)
I proceeded to tell our waiter that I didn't want anything with pork in it, or with any sauce unless it was white or red in color. "Of course sir". You ever wonder what the waiter is saying to himself when he is waiting on your table? And why do they always look like they could use a meal their damn selves? But I digress.
I think I ordered the "pen roasted organic chicken" (Come on, like you didn't know it was going to order something with chicken in it. When in doubt always order the chicken). PEN ROASTED ORGANIC? And I had it with something named black truffle pomme puree [sic]. I had to call Mrs. Field to be reminded of the name of that one. "Oh look honey doesn't that look wonderful?" I must confess that it didn't taste all that bad, but after cleaning up a portion that wouldn't have satisfied Webster, I was still hungry
On our way home, much to Mrs. Fields displeasure, we stopped at Taco Bell so that your boy could get a couple of soft tacos. "What is wrong with you Negro, how could you eat this crap after a meal like that?" Ahhh, because I am still hungry. And you know what? The Tacos actually tasted better.