Two Easters ago was our Last Supper.
I ordered Ruth’s Chris. The one in West Palm, though Boca was superior. But, Boca closed.
Mom was already barely eating, but showed interested in a ribeye sandwich.
Two of those, no onions, coming right up.
Well, it was one of those “oh did the customer want EXTRA onions” experiences.
Got that shit home. The bag reeked of onions. Even though I tossed the onions in a baggie and ran them straight out to the trash chute, the house reeked of onions.
I called and disemboweled the manager verbally.
He said come back and we’ll make it right.
“It’s my mother’s last Easter,” I had spat out. “We don’t get do-overs anymore.”
I know I’ve written here that the last food she had was a tiny bit of my birthday cake. (That I’d ordered early. and that she promptly threw up.)
But this was the last real meal we attempted.
She couldn’t cook anymore. She couldn’t even stand. The cancer had ravaged her organs and her bones.
Anyway I got to Ruth’s Chris for a wine tasting the other night. First time there in two years. My rage was palpable.
But it was also my Easter dinner, as it were, though a few days early. And there was an amazing wine pairing happening with every course. So, had to do it.
Glad I did it. The food was amazing, the wine was amazing.
Oh, and I won a $40 bottle of wine.
(Don’t ask me how I won it. I just WON IT, OK?)
Joe and Kathy next to me were very happy about that. Joe won a bottle too. Judy at our table was not amused.
But this was a core memory unlocked that none of them knew about.
Not that the place owed me, necessarily.
But … the place certainly gained favor with me after two years of not going near it.