By Henry Ehrlich
In July, I wrote a short editor’s note called “Crying Wolf to the Waiter” in which I recounted my son’s experience at one of the restaurants he helps manage. A customer claimed to be allergic to toast. Now a new one: a customer ordered a dish and when it arrived he asked the waiter if it contained capers. There were none apparent, so the waiter went to my kid and he asked the chef, who said there were indeed capers in the sauce. Ever vigilant, he rushed to the table where the customer had already started to eat. When my super-conscientious son told the customer the bad news, he said, “Oh, I’m not really allergic—I just don’t like them.” Hmm. Maybe he just doesn’t know how they taste.
As editor of this website, I must ask this guy, “Don’t the truly food allergic have enough troubles in restaurants without your pretend ones?” As a father, I’d like to say, “It’s a good thing my kid was well raised and you got good service in spite of your childish behavior.” Finally, I like capers, but not as much as good olives—especially when they are in a nice dry martini.
Photo by realfood.tesco.com