Recently my wife and I walked into a fast food outlet and sat down. Two minutes passed before the maitre’d handed us the triptych menu and while we ruminated over the selections the wine steward brought to our table a fine bottle of Jasper Hill Paddock Shiraz, uncorked it, and poured two glasses of delicious 400 calories beverage.
We chose a cup of Turkey red lentil soup with sumac at 210 calories prior to a main entry of Basil Salmon Terrine posted at 505 calories. We declined the Thyme Gougeres rolls.
The two of us complimented the evening’s exquisite entrees even though we felt the drive-through window distracted our meal somewhat and, too, the Sex Pistols background sounds proved to be less than palatable.
Lastly, the piece de resistance, a delicate Mousse au chocolate garnished with almond slivers, topped off our evening fare. “Dear, it’s 822 calories now, an increase of 15 from our last visit! Do we dare?”
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Our host in disconcerting red, yellow, and white attire and tureen-sized shoes came by and asked, “Serait soins le monsieur de voir le total de calories?” Declining the offer and most likely the guilt, if any, we offset such knowledge with a philosophy of moderation. And exercise.
May your readership judge for themselves the value of calorie counts on menu boards. And may they always be guided by taste, portion, and affordability.
— BINK OWEN, Walla Walla