Right now the summer bounty is so plentiful Meg doesn’t even know what to do with it all. Tomatoes, corn and zucchini are all begging to be used in the kitchen, but Meg can only listen to so many vegetables clamoring at once for their turn on her countertop. What, they don’t talk to you, like they do me?
In any case, it the abundance factor sparked a funny memory for Meg that she decided to share with you, and that was the worst summer meal she ever had. Let’s begin:
Once upon a time on the magical island of Nantucket, the family vacationed in a rustic beach house. And the use of the house didn’t come cheap, because Meg’s family were really the cheap (un) hired labor. The owners required tasks for use of the house; and they had accounts at local hardware stores, but dammit, not the liquor store. One tidbit Meg and Ain’t Misbeehaven cleverly gleaned while waiting in line to purchase booze, was that Kathie Lee Gifford had life sized statues of her kids in the front yard of her house. No surprise there, eh?
Anyway, Meg digresses.
Once in awhile, after a hard day of painting stairs the color of the ocean and and cleaning the bedroom with sixteen windows, Meg and Ain’t Misbeehaven wanted to hit a restaurant with their hubbies and take a little break. This particular year, the girls decided to try someplace trendy, which was a little out of their usual wheelhouse. The sisters called the spiffy oceanside establishment for a reservation and were told the dress was “smart casual”. The men were all like “do our pants need a certain IQ“?
Calm down boys, we said, just wear some khakis and a golf shirt. We’ll take care of the rest.
The couples arrived at the restaurant and were seated, and they perused the menu with delight. Meg and her brother in law chose the tuna, accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and fresh green beans, because how the heck can you screw that up? In the meantime, they noshed on bread and rolls, had some cocktails, and relaxed.
Soon, the meals came, and we thought there as a mistake. Meg saw what looked to be a piece of fish, but where WAS THE REST OF HER STUFF?
When queried, the waitress explained the dish was composed.
Composed dish? And by composed, I don’t mean it was cool, calm and collected. Yeah, composed in the 90’s meant arranged in stacks and angles so it all looked fancy. Still, there was an expectation some food should on the plate, NOT AIR.
The tuna was placed on the thin layer of potato, and peeking through that layer there looked to be some chives. But guess what? Those chives weren’t chives, they were the smallest GREEN BEANS on the planet, the babiest haricot verts she has ever seen. She can’t imagine who even picked them from the garden, she imagines the Lollipop Kids from the Wizard of Oz.
Well, what can you do? Call for that bread basket to be filled over and over and over again. And maybe one more time for good measure until we all resembled Poppin’ Fresh and were ready to blow from carbohydrate overload.
We all learned a lesson that night, and that was when the going gets tough, keep asking for more bread. And oh, by the way, the place went out of business by the end of the summer. But the bread WAS good.
Remind Meg to tell you the story of how the men were late because they played golf with a guy who’s hands were blown off by lightning. Meg still has yet to this day to get a coherent explanation about that.