What’s the deal with restaurant menus? You pick up a menu, and suddenly you’re reading a novel. ‘Pan-seared Atlantic salmon, served atop a bed of artisanal truffled risotto, with a medley of garden-fresh, seasonal greens, lightly drizzled with a balsamic reduction.’ Pan-seared? Are they going to tell me it’s cooked? What did I think, it was going to be raw? And ‘seasonal greens’? Aren’t *all* greens seasonal? Are there non-seasonal greens? Like, the ‘eternal’ greens? They don’t sprout at particular times, they’re just… there, waiting, for when you decide to eat them? It’s like they’re trying to convince you that this salmon, this particular piece of fish, has its own unique biography. Just tell me it’s fish and it’s cooked! I’ll take my chances. If it’s bad, I’ll know. I don’t need a culinary short story before I order dinner.
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