What’s for dinner? Reservations…

When I picked Avery up from school  yesterday, she immediately asked if we could go to a restaurant.  Why?  Because it’s her favorite thing to do.  Turns out Logan from her class was going out to dinner and she wanted to do the same.   She called Daddy and asked if we could go out…and he agreed.  We got a gift certificate to Benihana for Christmas so we decided to use it. 

Avery complained all the way to dinner that she wanted to go to Coney Island (hotdogs).  But we convinced her that this would be way more fun, that they would cook our dinner ON OUR TABLE  and she could have steak.  That intrigued her.  Hubby and I were worried that she wouldn’t bring her “good listening skills” and would be a holy terror at dinner.  But she surprised us – she was phenonimal.  Right up to the point where she squeezed the edamane and shot a soy bean at one of the ladies sitting at our table.    And I need to mention that she ate – alot.  For the first time in days, she consumed more than just a Pb&J.

But now you need to hear about the ladies sitting at our table.  Three women, somewhere in the 25-34 demographic.  And they were completely anti-social.  It has been our experience when eating hibatchi that everyone joins in on the fun.  Nope.  Not them.  They sat at the other end of the table with their drinks adorned with oranges, cherries and umbrellas and talked among themselves.  Avery tends to be an icebreaker but not this time. 

First comes the soup, which everyone at the table ate.  Then came salads – Hubby and I took ours, but the women waved theirs off.   As the chef is cooking, he starts to place veggies on their plates – again – waved off.  Ok?  We got more veggies on our end.  They all ordered chicken and steak combos.  Hubby and I had our dinners placed on our plates…and we started eating.  Then I glance at the chef and he is adding more butter to the steaks of all the women.  HORDES of butter.  At their request.  Um, ok…I’ve had herbed butter on a filet before.  Not so strange.  But then out of the corner of my eye, I notice they are passing the chefs butter dish amongst themselves, shoveling EVEN MORE FREAKING butter on their food.  Luckily Hubby didn’t notice my jaw just about hitting the floor.  Butter with a side of steak, chicken and rice.  Oh and skip the veggies please.  I could practicially feel my arteries shutting down just from watching them eat.  At least I benefited from their poor habits – I got more veggies on my plate. 

We left before they did.  I certainly hope there was a doctor in the house in case one of them dropped dead while walking out of the restaurant.

Advertisements

5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. KDLOST
    Jan 10, 2009 @ 12:07:47

    oooh, girl. well, stay inside (replying to the comment about the snow!)… our high today is 76!! the rest of the week it will be in the 50’s! crazy weather!

    Reply

  2. Life, Love & Lola
    Jan 10, 2009 @ 17:36:13

    That’s just gross! Were they fat? You should have invited them to join OSB!

    Reply

  3. wpmomof2/Jen
    Jan 10, 2009 @ 19:32:52

    The other night my 3 year old said to me, “I want to go out to eat.”…I looked at her likes she was nuts. She’s already picked up on “going out”. Probably because I won’t make her french fries at home, ha.

    Reply

  4. Shannon
    Jan 10, 2009 @ 23:25:39

    My sister is a butter-lover. When she butters a muffin, I swear the thing looks like a cupcake… there is so much butter it looks like frosting!

    Reply

  5. Tatiana
    Jan 11, 2009 @ 11:39:19

    Benihana, mmmm… I am jealous! I desperately want to go there sometime.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: