The words on this page are less about food and more about being mortified. Sorry. Sometimes sharing is a form of therapy following a traumatic experience. Our DJ friend brought a date to dinner at The Grape last week. When his date asked what I do during the day, I told her I write about food. She responded with a short story about a blogger she didn’t like all that much. This particular person’s previous employer is none other than Ketchup Burger Bar. Gulp.
She couldn’t believe this writer wrote about how the butternut squash couscous burger made him throw up in his mouth– just a little. At this moment I realized this he is a she that’s me. Our DJ’s date feels this food blogger is not only a man, but is also… fat. <--- This information is a special gift given to hungry comment trolls everywhere. You're welcome.
Google promises that the last time the U.S. Census Bureau checked, around 1,223,229 people live in Dallas. This means that out of around 1,223,229 people possibly living in this city, I was having dinner with Ketchup Burger Bar’s bartender. Having dinner with someone you’ve written about is more than just a little uncomfortable. There’s no way anyone can prepare for this kind of scariness.
Somehow the subject changed, paving the way for a non-violent dinner. Pork being included in many of the almost veggie options was the only eating obstacle. Even though the scallop app is served with pork, our server said it could easily be excluded as a part of the process. She recommended having this dish as an entree, which turned out to be an excellent suggestion. Besides being helpful, our server was wearing the most exciting navy shirt with ponies dancing everywhere.
The guy beside me had some kind of important steak special of the evening. I didn’t ask anyone at the table how their entree made them feel. My mind was consumed with how to get inside our DJ date’s purse to retrieve my business card. This business card has the power to single-handedly demolish my existence. I knew we were going across the street to the rooftop at Dodie’s. It was only a matter of time before she looked. There was no way of knowing whether she’d look, never look, or look when I was safely sitting in a car a few miles away. Nothing was definite.
Devising a backup plan never happened. It was too late. We had just finished trading a few pet stories when she reached inside her purse. She pointed her iPhone flashlight at my business card and said, “I’ll have to take a look at your blog when I get home. Almost Veggies… Almost Veggies? Wait. Al….most… Veggies. You write for Almost Veggies? This is the same blog that the guy wrote about Ketchup Burger Bar. Do you know Almost Veggie?” I said that I did, in fact, know this person. This answer can be justified because I am not a stranger to myself. This person is me, so– yes. This moment was borderline horrific.
This rainbows and sunshine ending is not about survival. It’s about our DJ’s date presently feeling work joy while running her own business. She got sick of the restaurant world and finally escaped into a venture of her own. She’s running the show. Customers running out on checks or servers texting in the service bar area have no control over her mood anymore. Life is now grand.
2808 Greenville Avenue
Dallas, TX 75206