We drive around back; he gets out and rings the delivery doorbell. It opens, he hands her six mallards, she gives him a kiss, the door closes, we drive back around front and enter just like anyone else going out for dinner.
When the waitress brings us menus, none of us bothers to open them; we know what she’s cooking for us. It’s duck breasts in a red wine sauce, wild rice, candied squash, and, at least for me, a serving of her homemade cranberry chutney.
Waitress returns with, “Do you gentlemen want to order now?”
The guy opposite me at the table says, “Oh, we already ordered. We’re having the special. We phoned ahead.”
“Oh well, I’ll check on your dinners then,” and off she goes again.
Not too much longer she comes out carrying the bowl of squash and the pot of rice, second load was a platter of succulent duck breasts, with duck fat roasted potatoes. She says, “You know I don’t think this is even on the menu.” We sorta chuckled, again man opposite replies, “Oh it’s just for those who phone ahead, and if you happened to be married to the cook.”
- The Trout Whisperer
