While I do enjoy trying new things when eating out, trying an entire whole plate of new foods is a daunting task for me to handle. Most times that I go out to eat I try to find something on the menu that is familiar to my pallet, rarely straying, choosing the familiarity with what I am pretty sure I would enjoy eating.

Most times after my food is in my tummy, I am happy as can be, knowing that I got what I ordered.

Then there are the times that I order something, expect one thing, and get something completely different, simply because, how should I put it…I’m a fool when it comes to ordering in a restaurant.

If a waiter or waitress begins to say the specials I have to try hard as can be not to laugh in their face. I’m in no way trying to be rude to the wait staff while they are only trying to make a living, and yet something internally inside me finds someone rolling off five complicated detailed meals off the top of their head as though they went to school to annunciate each word impeccably incredibly funny.

This concentration on not laughing usually causes me to lose all train of thought, and the use of any other parts of my brain cease to exist. Then the waiter or waitress walks away, and I am left with absolutely no idea what the specials of the day are.

Or, if a menu contains the word “penne” I laugh to myself, or if I’m with one of my sister’s we laugh together aloud, because “penne” was what we called a penis growing up.

Back to the wrongly ordering things, at one of my sister’s weddings, I ended up ordering the filet minion, because I was in the mood for fish.

The way my brain works is that if you filet anything, it must be fish, so when a huge steak came out and placed before me to eat, I turned to my date and said, “Didn’t I order the filet minion? Is this your steak?”

This is just the tip of the iceberg as far as my not knowing how to order anything. Nowadays if I am out to eat, I’m usually with the Cheese, and it consists of me asking what the things on the menu are, and then ordering something familiar.

This past Saturday we were starving, and finally found a place to eat in Brooklyn Heights after finding out the original choice on University Place was now under construction to become a condo.

I was in the mood for something big, warm, and tasty. The specials were clearly printed and placed inside the normal menu. I decided to go with the lamb with the side of goat cheese ravioli. I even asked the Cheese about the serving size of the pasta dishes at this particular place, and I felt confident in my choice of food.

When the waitress came out with our food she asked who ordered the lamb, and when I said I did, she proceeded to place on big leg of cooked meat and something that didn’t look like any sort of ravioli I’d ever seen down in front of me.

“I thought I ordered lamb?” I said.

Cheese, “Umm, babe, that is lamb.”

Another unexpected twist to my eating out experiences, as it turns out that the lamb was still on the bone, and ravioli was apparently some other type of ravioli that I did not know existed.

I always think of meats as being cut into flat pieces or chunks, never round and oblong.

Food made me a fool once again, and it was delicious.

Food: 2
Beehive: 0