Fast Food |
"What restaurant are we going to, Mommy?" my daughter asked. |
"Wherever your Grammy wants to go, sweetie," I answered. "It's her birthday." |
"Are we going to McDonald's?" |
I laughed. "No baby, we're not taking Grammy out for fast food on her birthday." |
"Oh," she said. "We're going take her to slow food." |
Every once in a while, my daughter pops up with hilarious statements that are actually true. Anything that is not fast food would, indeed, be slow food. Or perhaps medium-speed food. |
At the Olive Garden today, from the time we were seated to the time we left was a total of twenty-five minutes. This included drinks, salad, the main course, and paying the check. For a sit-down restaurant, that is awfully fast. I understand that restaurants try to cater to the lunch crowd—people who have thirty minutes to an hour to eat lunch and get back to their jobs. But it seems that we are rushing ourselves right out of any enjoyment that we might take in our food. In a country obsessed with weight and one with a serious problem with obesity, is a thirty-minute meal really a good idea? I know that if I rush to eat, I don't realize how full I am until the meal is over. |
In any case, we ended up taking Grammy to a local restaurant called Catherine's for their crab cakes. The food was good, and we were out of there in forty minutes. A slow-food birthday celebration it was not. |
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