Like buses, the weird thoughts arrive in quick succession. This is my second today.
This is actually a thought I had last Sunday when my family and I decided that it would be novel to have breakfast at Frankie and Benny’s instead of in our house. It was actually my husband’s idea. As we were lying in bed that morning enjoying the bliss that is Sunday mornings he proposed leaping out of bed, getting dressed, and driving to the nearest Frankie and Benny’s for breakfast. I had no reasonable argument against his proposition, so jump I did.
Upon arrival at Frankie and Benny’s we were treated very well and very efficiently. We were quickly seated and handed menus. Twice, while we were perusing the menus, we were asked if we were ready to order yet. Everyone was, except me. The reason: I am a very fussy eater. I am a Sally. I know what I like and I know how to create it. People in restaurants do not.
This is what I wanted:
The lighter breakfast.
However, I didn’t want what was on offer, exactly. I wanted to swap the scrambled eggs for a fried egg and the sausage for beans. I also wanted toast. I only wanted one rasher of bacon and I wanted that bacon to be crispy.
What I chose:
I ordered the Big Breakfast with a side of toast. I went for this rather than the lighter breakfast partly because I didn’t want to do a Sally in Frankie and Benny’s and embarrass my family and also I reasoned that I’d get all of what I wanted plus some and I could palm off the bits I didn’t want on my children.
However, when my order arrived I had a few problems with it. There was nothing wrong with the meal if you analyse it objectively. It was exactly as expected. However, it wasn’t what I wanted. For a start, the plate was too big and there was far too much food on it. I really don’t like being given more than I can eat. That makes me quite cross. Also, the bacon was a bit oily for me and not quite crispy enough (there was also too much of it). The sausage was big and too herby (I don’t like herbs in my sausages). The portion of baked beans was too small and in a dish (why?). There were too many herby potatoes. The fried egg was wrong too: the egg white was overcooked and the yolk undercooked. The side order of toast consisted of brown toast when I’d prefer white. It wasn’t toasted enough. It wasn’t hot enough. There was too much of it.
I also ordered an orange juice to drink. This was also wrong. The orange juice came with a tonne of ice. I don’t like ice in my orange juice. The ice melts and the orange juice tastes watery. I hadn’t been asked (as happens in a pub) whether I wanted ice or not. If I had been asked I would of course had said no. I felt cross that nobody asked me. I took all of the ice out in a huff.
So after my food arrived I puffed and powted my way through my breakfast, ungrateful wench that I am. It was just so wrong!
However, the experience of a family breakfast in Frankie and Benny’s was pleasant enough to make it a future good memory. I hope they don’t remember how awkward I was.
Today, my husband kindly offered to make me breakfast and I requested my new favourite breakfast: one single fried egg on two slices of toast with a slither of cheese between the egg and toast and Heinz BBQ sauce on top. However, I failed to specify to him (he hadn’t made this to me before) exactly how I wanted this cooked and served and I had to intervene.
I had failed to tell him that I don’t like much cheese on the toast. I need very little in fact. In addition, the cheese should be sliced wafer thinly. The butter should be applied to the toast as soon as the toast comes out of the toaster so that it melts perfectly into the toast. The BBQ sauce should not, under any circumstances, go on the buttered toast. That is wrong on all levels. Half way through the cooking of the egg a sprinkle of oregano and ground pepper should be added to the egg. This shouldn’t be added too early or too late or it won’t taste right. The BBQ sauce should be dribbled over the egg only, and only when, the egg has been added to the toast. This meal should always be served with a small (not large) glass of orange juice. No ice of course. Then, and only then, has this dish reached perfection.
He did good though. And I was sure to tell him.
I know that I can be a complete Sally sometimes with food. But I just know what I like and that’s not a bad thing, is it?
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