With Apologies To The Bees
*** continued from previous post ***
As Leeza puts the plates in front of us, she says,"The Honey-Raspberry Vinaigrette is one of our trademarks. The honey is collected in the wild, where IOUs and apologies are issued to the bees. We also set them up with a Health Care Plan. The greens are supplemented with native foliage gathered daily from our forests and meadows. Mostly native grasses and root shavings. We harvest our own apples from a Heritage Orchard in Carnack, and process them into the vinegar you are about to taste, as well as some delicious apple cider. The wheat for the bread, unbleached of course, comes from eco-friendly ranching cooperatives on the plains of Alberta."
Leeza nods her head as she speaks, plainly proud of their food, and rightfully so.
"The hazelnuts," and here she pauses, clearly bracing for an admission that will blow our socks off, "are from . . . the Costco in Calgary."
She dips her head slightly as if embarrassed. I want to tell her that like her hazelnuts, my underwear and socks are 'Kirkland branded' as well, but in a moment of clarity I realize she may not care to hear about my skivvies.
"Enjoy!", she says with a smile. "I'll be back in a few minutes with your main course."
I feel slightly saddened that in my state I am unable to appreciate the nuances of the food set before us. You could have popped a can of cat food, (and not the good kind either - the cheap stuff from China that may or may not be made with political dissidents and a dash of cyanide), and I would have devoured the pasty goo without pausing to taste. However, as anyone knows the ultimate insult to a cook - well, non-verbal anyway - is to scarf your food like a hyena, never giving it a chance to register on your taste buds. I was sure we were being watched by the cooks, and as I wanted a mucus-free dining experience I fought my nature and ate at a respectful pace.
*** the journey continues ***
As Leeza puts the plates in front of us, she says,"The Honey-Raspberry Vinaigrette is one of our trademarks. The honey is collected in the wild, where IOUs and apologies are issued to the bees. We also set them up with a Health Care Plan. The greens are supplemented with native foliage gathered daily from our forests and meadows. Mostly native grasses and root shavings. We harvest our own apples from a Heritage Orchard in Carnack, and process them into the vinegar you are about to taste, as well as some delicious apple cider. The wheat for the bread, unbleached of course, comes from eco-friendly ranching cooperatives on the plains of Alberta."
Leeza nods her head as she speaks, plainly proud of their food, and rightfully so.
"The hazelnuts," and here she pauses, clearly bracing for an admission that will blow our socks off, "are from . . . the Costco in Calgary."
She dips her head slightly as if embarrassed. I want to tell her that like her hazelnuts, my underwear and socks are 'Kirkland branded' as well, but in a moment of clarity I realize she may not care to hear about my skivvies.
"Enjoy!", she says with a smile. "I'll be back in a few minutes with your main course."
I feel slightly saddened that in my state I am unable to appreciate the nuances of the food set before us. You could have popped a can of cat food, (and not the good kind either - the cheap stuff from China that may or may not be made with political dissidents and a dash of cyanide), and I would have devoured the pasty goo without pausing to taste. However, as anyone knows the ultimate insult to a cook - well, non-verbal anyway - is to scarf your food like a hyena, never giving it a chance to register on your taste buds. I was sure we were being watched by the cooks, and as I wanted a mucus-free dining experience I fought my nature and ate at a respectful pace.
*** the journey continues ***
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Keep it nice or I release the Zombies.
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