restaurant review

"..if you can't make something out of a little experience, you won't be able to make it out of a lot. The writer's business is to contemplate experience, not be merged in it." ~Flannery O'Connor

We need not feel limited by geography nor our financial ability to accumulate passport stamps. If you've eaten a meal at a restaurant recently, you've earned an experience. The same is true of your healthcare and consumer experiences. For today's prompt, review an experience you've had in which the service was remarkable (good or bad). Imagine this less as a Travelocity review and more as an expert critique that might appear in a newspaper or magazine.



In times like these, when we must abstain from feasting at our favorite restaurants, we must bring the fine dining to us. Yesterday I had the pleasure of "calling in" and "picking up" from one of the most well-established establishments on Overton Square.


As I waited in the Curbside Pickup Lane, "10 minutes only," I had the opportunity to observe a photographer in her natural habitat, willing any kind of inspiration to appear in her subject's head shot - apart the turquoise wall of her backdrop of choice, the dreary suit's LinkedIn profile would be identical to the next. Cringe.



Before I knew it, the graceful and talented Vanessa appeared, heaving a large bag and two plastic cups through my passenger seat's window, just as I managed to clear all the paper off the seat. Although I cannot see her smile, I perceive it twinkling behind her mask. Ah, the service of an angel. "Y'all have a great day!" Alone again, I lingered a moment to absorb the bouquet of greasy aromas pouring into every crevice (and immediately escaping through the ineffective sun roof) of my chariot.



Once back home, I had the pleasure of spreading my delectable spread across the coffee table, whilst only knocking over one or two of the tchotchkes that reside there. As I folded into the deep, fraying cushions of my sofa and tucked into my banquet, I had the presence of mind to remind Dr. G. Willikers of his place at the table. "Get offa there, Willie!"


Before I could comprehend what had transpired, I found myself clutching the dripping remains of my Beyond-veggie-burger-with-avocado-and-roasted-garlic-aioli. The bun in tatters, my fingers soused, garments dappled, it finally dawned on me how this enterprise earned the moniker "Belly Acres." I highly recommend the peanut-butter-milkshake.