Who got the lamb burger?

Back to Boston:

Friday evening, after sushi and cupcakes, it was time to add a little liquid to our adventure. Kristyn chose a beautiful Sauvignon Blanc and even decided to share it with me.

Dan let me taste some of his beer as well. We played ridiculous board games and slowly got ourselves ready to go out for a night on the town. The end result was not too shabby.

Our original plan of Venezuelan cuisine was crushed by a two hour wait for a table, so we headed next door to Matt Murphy’s instead. No wait! We were starving, so mussels for the table sounded like a good plan:

Unbelievably good. The mussels were great, of course, but the coconut broth they were served in was the real draw of this course. Which we asked to keep long after the mussels were gone as we downed bread basked after bread basket, sopping up every last drop.

When it came time to order, I was torn. I had committed out loud to ordering the lamb burger, but also had my eye on the fish they were serving. Of course, when orders were taken, I chose neither and ordered a cheese steak. Makes perfect sense. When our food came, everyone who ordered a sandwich was served a huge focaccia bun with a plate spilling over with fried. This included 3/4 of the table.

Somehow, (perhaps because I was so hungry and eager?) I made it all the way through one half of my sandwich before Kristyn’s friend Nik announced that he had the wrong plate. The server had served him my cheese steak and I had received his lamb burger. It’s tough to say, even after a week of pondering, why I didn’t notice that I was eating the wrong entree. Perhaps it means that I don’t care much what I eat and I should just stick to gruel, since it’s the cheapest. Maybe it means I’m inconsiderate: maybe I realized I was eating his lamb burger, but it was so good that I pretended I didn’t. Whatever the case, the end result was quite strange. Unfortunately, Nik doesn’t eat red meat, so he called the server over and attempted to explain the situation. Midway through, she snatched his plate, took mine, and exchanged them. Then she mumbled something while she walked away. Everyone at the table was left a little befuddled. Would she give Nik another burger since I had selfishly inhaled half of his? It was unclear, and none of us knew quite what to do. So, we ate what was in front of us. About 15 minutes later, another lamb burger was hastily plopped down next to Nik, complete with another plate of fries. He had a lot of eating to do.

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