This weekend my boyfriend and I agreed that we were in the mood for some oriental flavor. He had an idea, and he drove us to one of the nicer Japanese places in Huntsville to see if they had a menu posted. Alas, a menu wasn’t posted, and Jeff again disclaimed that he didn’t know whether they’d have anything for a vegetarian. Anxious to try a new place, I replied optimistically that surely they’d have something. I mean, at the very least they can throw some rice in with some vegetables and call it an entrée!
However, as we sat at our table scanning the menu, I realized that I might have been mistaken. I didn’t see anything that would work. Our waiter returned, and I asked him if they had any vegetarian selections. “We do,” he replied. “Do you consider fish as being vegetarian?” No. In that case, he suggested one or two of the appetizers.
After looking at the menu for about ten minutes – and being thoroughly disappointed in their lack of choices – I finally settled on something with the decidedly non-appetizing title of “organic salad.” Off the waiter went to place our order … only to return minutes later to say that they were out of the organic salad. I replied that I didn’t want anything. After Jeff finished his sushi, he would take me over to one of our regular places and I’d get something.
I admit that I was not a happy camper for a little while, but I was over it by the time Jeff’s food arrived. I was determined not to have a snit fit like some of the customers from my waitress days. As I wrote back then, “Sometimes you have to pick another vegetable.” Apparently, sometimes you also have to go somewhere else to *get* vegetables.