Sent Saturday, Feb 28, 2009.
This is me.
Annie has several sisters, all of whom I love dearly. However, one of them has a most grievous fault. Huh? No, no, much worse than that. She likes her steak “well done”. Whenever we happen to be out to a restaurant with her, she will usually order a steak “well done”. Invariably when the steak arrives she will not be pleased with it. Too dried out. Doesn’t taste right, or something. She will then eat small chunks of it soaked in whatever on her plate might contain some moisture. The main portion remains uneaten. At the end of the meal, the waitress will ask if she would like it boxed to take home. She never does. Now I know what you are thinking. No, I don’t take it home for my dog, because I’m not sure she would want to eat it either.
Now I have always enjoyed cooking. I can remember as a wee little one, dragging a kitchen chair up to the stove so I could fry my own eggs. To this day I do most of the cooking in our house. I had even considered going into the culinary arts in my younger days, but a problem raised it’s ugly head. While I like to cook, it occurred to me that I like to cook what I like to cook when I like to cook it. I was afraid that this attitude might not work out so well in the restaurant business. Besides, I really can’t stand the heat.
I have decided one thing. If I had become a chef, and owned a restaurant, and someone ordered a steak “well done” I had the perfect plan in mind. Upon receiving the order, I would go to the cooler and select a steak. I would then go the table and enquire as to who had ordered a steak “well done”. On being informed, I would show the selected steak to the offender and ask if it was suitable. On receiving an affirmative reply, I would then slap the customer with the steak, hand the miscreant a ten dollar bill and directions to the nearest Burger King.
Not going into the restaurant business may have worked out for the best.
Tags: Food Steak Well Done
