Restaurant routine runs in the family

My obsessive need for routine is no more evident than when I’m eating out in a restaurant.

Although my husband is a great cook and makes dinner most nights, when he’s too busy or tired, we go out. No, I do not take up that slack, unless he wants scrambled eggs and toast, or a pumpkin pie. That is my full repertoire.

When we do go out, I have a one-strike rule. If I don’t have a good experience at a restaurant, I probably won’t give it another chance.

If I love the first thing I order, that’s what I order for the rest of eternity. Once in a while, I’ll have a couple of menu options that I’ll switch between. My husband, on the other hand, will order something different every time and take a chance on anything. Him: “I think I’ll try the sauteed squirrel with sauerkraut.” Me: “I need a plain hamburger, meat and bread.”

My husband tells people he knows what I’m going to order and where I’m going to sit at every restaurant we frequent.

Being seated is not a process I take lightly. I scan the restaurant and decide where I want to sit, because that will become “my seat” forever.

I don’t always take the direction from the person seating us. When they try to lead us to a table in the middle of the room, I nicely ask for the booth in the back. Smiling and good tipping usually help smooth that over. I preface my request by saying, “I’m sorry. I know I’m high maintenance.”

We used to go to a certain Mexican restaurant once a week and sit in the same booth. I swear, the hostesses didn’t seat anyone there and saved it for us. I suggested that a plaque with our name on it be placed on the booth.

When someone is IN “my seat,” it throws me. I have been known to sit somewhere else, and if my favorite table is vacated, move there.

I’m also big on eating outdoors — no matter how hot or cold. I love patios with fans and fire pits or heaters. My husband is used to it, and he indulges me. I remember one frigid day we sat on a patio at a restaurant, and I warmed my hands over the food when it came and ate bites with chattering teeth.

We took our 2-year-old granddaughter, Kennedy, to a new restaurant the other night. Although it was hot, we sat outside on the patio. Kennedy was happy because she had a view of construction next door and could see “the excabators,” as she calls excavators, her newest obsession.

The flies were the only annoying thing, but we enjoyed our experience, and Kennedy bonded with our waiter, Paul.

Last week, we took Kennedy and her momma back to the same restaurant. My daughter-in-law suggested we sit inside because it was 99 degrees.

Kennedy resisted — she wanted to “sit outside and see the diggers,” so we did. Someone was at “our table,” but we sat next to that spot. Then Kennedy ordered the same thing she had the first time.

Like Mimi, like granddaughter.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-5671 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

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