My wife and I have a favorite little restaurant which we went to last night for dinner. The name of the restaurant is “Checkers” and it is a real meat eaters paradise. The owner and chef is a real gourmet and foodie himself. He creates a wonderful range of delicious and imaginative soups, salads and desserts. In fact, there is nothing left wanting but meat and especially pork takes centre stage.
The menu includes wonderfully named items like “Pasta from Hell”, Porgy’s Best and LOTR. Pasta from Hell is of course a very spicy spaghetti dish while Porgy’s best is a mound of some of the best cuts of pork served with salsa salad and mashed potatoes. LOTR stands for Lord of the Ribs and is in fact a whole rack of smoky barbecued ribs. Ummm. Delicious.
The restaurant is not very big at all with a capacity for just about 25 people squeezed into a small space and it was pretty full last night. We had arrived early and had enjoyed our meal of sorrel soup, papaya salad, pork chop and Porgy’s Best and was feeling quite full and sated.
As the rest of the diners continued with their meal, my wife and I were having a pleasant post dinner conversation. At one point, I told my wife that I completed a 13 week course with a local Christian organisation which I had taken. There was a two part examination at the end of the course. I was rather pleased that I was the top student with the highest points from the examination. My wife asked me what were my results and I told her I got 94 and 96 out of 100 respectively. She congratulated me but then asked who marked the examination.
I told her who marked the exams and as it happens it is someone who is known to both of us. My wife narrowed her suspicious eyes and teased that my strong performance in the exam was attributed to my knowing the examiner. With a laugh she proclaimed loudly, “I smell a rat!”
“What?!?” I said.
“I smell a big rat!” she repeated.
A strange hush fell over the whole restaurant. The owner-chef rushed to our table and asked anxiously, “You smell a rat? Here in the restaurant?”
I rolled in laughter as my wife tried to mumble and bumble an explanation that she was using that phrase metaphorically. There was a moment of awkwardness before the owner-chef tried to rescue the moment. “Actually, it reflects badly on a restaurant if no rat tries to steal its food.”
“How true! Check please.”
Incidentally, there is no ratatouille on the menu.