the name game

Last night we went to dinner to a restaurant that had an appealing name - Meat & Wine Co. Simple, apt, adequately explains what to expect. Now, our friends who led us to this establishment suggested the ribs. No, not suggested, actively prodded us in the direction of the ribs, as apparently, this was one meat this restaurant did well. Of course, once the decision's made, that, yes, I'll have the ribs, comes the next conundrum - which ribs. Give me a choice between beef ribs and pork ribs and I'll find it difficult to decide, which of course this restaurant realised, hence the option of 1/2 beef, 1/2 pork. Perfect, sign me up.

Of course my sensible friend, who'd been before, opted purely for 1/2 beef - which when the massive platter was placed before her I realised meant "Half of the ribs that a cow owns," and, um, that's a lot. Now, a sensible person would expect that 1/2 beef, 1/2 pork would involve a half-size serving of each of these dishes. Sensibility didn't reign supreme in that kitchen.

Do you remember how at the end of every episode of The Flintstones, Fred's car nearly tips over at the drive-through thanks to his enormous plate of Brontosaurus Ribs? Yes, that'd be kind of indicative as to what was placed before me last night.

Don't worry, I soldiered on. Polished the bones clean before rolling home.

Bircher muesli and fruit salad for breakfast this morning...