BREAKFAST AT IHOP

Every Sunday TLW (The Little Woman) and I go for breakfast. It has been going on for several years and is a ritual, it kind of starts off the week rather nicely. Usually it is a local diner, but to mix it up once in a while, IHOP becomes the choice of venue.

We are even in the process of making friends with the waitresses that serve us, and a greeting of: “The usual?” will be the case. Sometimes I go crazy and ask for pancakes, or an omelet if I’m really feeling wild. This usually shakes up the waitress, staring at me as she thinks: “How dare you shake me up so early in the morning? Eat what you are supposed to!”

There are certain criteria for me to enjoy breakfast. I hate if it is noisy, meaning I’m involuntarily listening to someone’s conversation, so I need to sit as far away from the chatter as possible if I can.  Yogi Berra in all his wisdom said it best: “No one goes there anymore, it is too crowded.” If things get too popular, I won’t go there anymore.

One of my pet peeves is as in any restaurant, no matter what the meal, is the waiter or waitress constantly asking if everything is OK. If it weren’t OK, I would be telling them. Stop asking until you hear from me. If you don’t, everything is OK.

What she looks like

Ever wonder: who works in the kitchens? Are they playing by the rules, washing their hands when they are by law supposed to? And the utensils, have you ever looked closely at them, then start reaching for new forks or knives because of spots?

What I'm hoping she'll look like!

I know, I’m a pain in the neck when it comes to eating. That is why at a Chinese or Asian restaurant, I always use chopsticks. Maybe I should try cutting a steak with chopsticks.