For Sunday dinner, my family either goes out to eat or some combination of Mom, my sister and I make dinner. OK, so I’m not often part of that cooking combo, but at the same time, I’m the only one of us who works full time and happily orders takeout on the weekends and shares leftovers for Sunday.
Waiting for a Table
We all have our favorite restaurants. As fate would have it, Mom’s favorite buffet style restaurant is my least favorite on our usual rotation. If Satan needs ideas about how to run a buffet, ze can look no further than the dirty floored, amok children, generally bland food of this popular national chain family style buffet restaurant.
Years ago, a wise person advised me to never eat at a restaurant that has the word “family” as part of this name. That’s the only thing missing from this particular loud-ass restaurant that Mom still loves for the variety of its offerings.
The Bride
By some minor miracle, my sister convinced Mom to have our Sunday dinner at a Mexican restaurant. With all the offerings available, she still chose for herself and Dad a Tex-Mex taco salad with the edible bowl. I only mention the edible bowl because Mom kept reminding Dad to eat his bowl as he ate the salad inside of it.
For my part, whenever I see a coconut margarita on the menu, I order it. Nowhere on the menu did it say that their margaritas were the size of a carafe, served with a very long straw. Everyone at the table helped me with that drink. My nephew was the clean up crew since he sucked it down like a vacuum cleaner because he knows nothing about sipping an alcoholic drink.
I’m not quite sure what Mom didn’t like about the restaurant, but she announced days later that we could return without her…already have that in the works for Cinco de Mayo, which conveniently falls on a Friday this year.