Excuse me

Give me a yellow card, give me a red card, give me even a tarot death card. Just don’t, please don’t, ever give me one of those exotic menu cards.

When I go out to dinner, I want to relax, unwind. I shouldn’t have to use my powers of deduction and literary acumen to place my order.

“Good evening madam. May I take your order?”

Scenario 1: Be adventurous.
“Err, yes. I’ll have this… this… and this.”
“So that will be Goi Cuon, Gai Phad Phrik and Khanom Krok.”
“Err, yah.” ‘Cause I’m much too confused to verify or contradict.

Scenario 2: Place your faith in God and mankind
I bat my eyes at the maître d’ and ask, “What would you suggest?”
Meanwhile my husband is glaring at me thinking, how come you never accept anything that I suggest!

So basically, either pin the donkey’s tail, or roll the dice.

And tell me, is it even safe to eat what I can’t name?
I mean, imagine if I get food poisoning. My face turns blotchy, my body all itchy, my mouth starts swelling, my throat is constricting, I’m rushed to the doctor. While wheeling me into the emergency room he asks me, “Madam, what did you last eat?”
“Yum hua plea,” I struggle to say.
“Yes! Yes! I will help you. But first tell me, what did you eat.”
How on God’s earth am I going to explain that Yum Hua Plea is a banana flower salad with chilli paste and coconut cream, tossed with crunchy peanuts, herbs, poached prawn and boiled eggs!

Honey, where would you like to go to eat?
Let’s just go to the local food court. You know the kids love that stuff.

In response to this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt – card.

I recently got stumped at a new Pan-Asian restaurant. Please excuse me, but I have used a few names from their menu. I’m sure it makes perfect sense to a lot of people, but to me it could just as easily have been Latin.