I had dinner tonight with some friends at Cancun, a local Mexican restaurant, before we went to see a show. I ordered the Cancun Burrito, a "customer favorite" as promised on the menu. The rest of the group ordered your typical Mexican dishes: enchilladas, soft tacos, fajitas, etc. When we all got our food, I looked at everyone's entree and made an interesting discovery: every meal was pretty much the same thing.
You take some meat. You wrap it in a tortilla. You drizzle some red sauce on top. You add generous side portions of rice and refried beans. And that's pretty much describes how you would prepare every entree at Cancun Mexican Restaurant. Oh, sure, the soft taco was served open and without the sauce, but it's still the same idea. It kind of surprised me when they brought the food to the table and actually asked us who had what items. Because it really didn't matter.
Here's the kicker: all these items were priced differently. I love Mexican food, but it's kind of a scam. Love the chips and salsa, though.
The show we saw was The Dining Room at the Belfry in Noblesville. It was funny, a series of vignettes set in different dining rooms of wealthy people. I say "wealthy people" because every skit had a maid or a cook or a servant that would pop in, make some jokes, and leave. For a play that advertises the power of evoking everyone's favorite dining room memories, it sure didn't do that for me. Because I never had a maid or a cook or a servant in the various dining rooms of my past.
And what is a favorite dining room memory, anyway? Like the play said - repeatedly - no one really uses the dining room for anything other than Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Well, to be honest, I do have a favorite dining room memory. That would be when my parent's dog was a puppy and she decided that the best way to get outside was to dig a hole beneath the dining room table. Apparently she destroyed the carpet before realizing that this was not possible. I could pretty much bet that that incident doesn't qualify as either of my parent's favorite dining room memory, but it takes the cake for me.