31 January, 2015. The plan was simple: Head to the Bonefish Grill for an early, light dinner. I’d been thinking about a dozen oysters on the half shell all week long, paired with a cold glass of Guinness. My glass was half drained when one of the servers came over to let me know that they were out of oysters.
“Really?” I exclaimed. “On a Saturday? At 4:00??”
“Yes, we’re so sorry. But we could prepare a plate of Oysters Rockefeller for you instead. They’re great!”
“Are they fresh?” I inquire.
“Well, when were they prepared if you’re all out of oysters?”
There was an awkward, uncomfortable, pregnant pause while that question soaked in. Sheepishly, the server admitted they had been prepared a couple days earlier.
“No thank you.”
Hastily scribbled with a Lamy Medium nib in Parkville, Missouri.