Balls to the Wall

On Friday night, I went to dinner with Chesley, Mary Lorraine and Sarah (whom I just met) for Mary Lorraine’s birthday. Let’s just call her ML to keep things efficient. We went to one of my favorite places and because I love this place, I don’t want to reveal what it was because this story is not so complimentary. But just in case you do guess it, let it be known that this incident is not going to keep me from going back. Everyone makes mistakes. Some of us more than others (you know who you are). Let’s begin.

I ordered the lamb meatballs, one of my favorite things on the menu. They arrived and there were four of them. Perfect–one for each of us. I speared one first (typical), put it on my plate and cut it in half.

And…we had  a situation.

It was just a little (read: a lot) too rare. What…a disappointment. We summoned our server, showed her said situation, and she immediately took the plate away and promised she’d be back with fully cooked balls. Phew.

She came back with three. Piping hot.

Ok. So they had just thrown the remaining three on the grill, in the oven or (heaven forbid) in the microwave and tossed the raw one. Had there been three of us, this may not have been an issue, but it just wasn’t acceptable. We shouldn’t have had our appetizer compromised because of their cook-through snafu.

ML, being the birthday girl and few drinks deep, took it upon herself to alert the server (politely) of what had happened. It went something like: “Hi, we hate to be ‘those customers’ but see, this item came with four balls and as you can see, you just brought it back with three and there are four of us.”

The American Apparel-clad server apologized profusely and said she would return with our missing item. I thought that they might just bring us a whole ‘nother set of lamb meatballs to make up for the TWO mishaps.


One. Lone. Ball. Also known as: the Lance Armstrong special.

This was especially interesting because one of us (who will remain nameless) had told a story earlier in the evening about a fella with one testicle. Talk about a theme night.

But it was fine. We weren’t going to be greedy. We asked for the missing ball and we got what we asked for. Sarah (who hadn’t gotten one before) took it and dug in.


Well there you have it. We basically spend our entire evening going back and forth with the server about cooked balls and just when we finally think we have the issue resolved, we find out we are sorely mistaken.

We had to summon American Apparel over again. For no other reason than to try to get her to see the hilarity in the situation.

ML: “So…take a look at this rogue ball.”

American Apparel: “Oh wow. The rogue ball. Too rare again. So sorry about that. I’ll get the manager over right away.”

We made it clear we didn’t need to see a manager. We just wanted cooked meatballs. And if that wasn’t a possibility, free drinks would be a nice alternative. But the manager came over anyway and we did get a complimentary round of perfectly mixed and delicious cocktails.

But still not the fourth ball.


Like balls? Why not “like” this then?


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