This eve I dined out with my wife and her "grown" daughter.
The latter, I hope, learned a lesson, ‘bout soup, I taught her.
The ‘chowder' (maybe four bucks "worth") , she said had "too much starch."
As she dared to NOT eat most of it, my eyebrows did slowly arch.
Perhaps they "arched" only figuratively, ……or did they arch indeed?
How many hungry kids, in our world, would that …..bowl of chowder feed?
But, instead of chastising her for the "waste" (her mom has "wasted" too) ,
I simply told her (next time she's tempted to order soup) ……what to DO.
In some restaurants, if you ask, they'll give you a sample, to taste, first;
before ordering you can then rate it for yourself: ‘great', ‘good', ‘poor', or "worst".
I'd like to try asking for entrée samples, but I don't think I would dare.
Besides, I'll eat most anything put in front of me, ……even if covered with hair.
(February 14+26,2014)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have eaten food I don't like in a restaurant as I don't like to complain, make a fuss or seem to be ungrateful especially if someone else is paying for it. I have never asked for a sample before...not sure how that would be received here in New Zealand. What a lovely idea if they allowed small samples of the main meal as an entree.