Luke's, Thursday
So, angry Friday dude (yes, Priestly knew his actual name, he was a consumate professional diner manager, here) decided to do Ethiopian last week. Priestly couldn't have one of his employees showing him up in the fancy funky foreign food department.
There was just one problem:
"What do you mean we're all out of snails?" Priestly stared open mouthed at his cook. "They were frozen, man, they can't have just gotten up and slithered out of here!"
The cook showed him the little slime trails leading out of the freezer. "Some kind of malfunction," he said. "They're escargone."
"I hate you," said Priestly. "Never use that pun ever again."
Today's specials
Confit de canard
Ratatouille
Gâteau de ménage
Luke's was open. And probably not teeming with undead snails.
There was just one problem:
"What do you mean we're all out of snails?" Priestly stared open mouthed at his cook. "They were frozen, man, they can't have just gotten up and slithered out of here!"
The cook showed him the little slime trails leading out of the freezer. "Some kind of malfunction," he said. "They're escargone."
"I hate you," said Priestly. "Never use that pun ever again."
Today's specials
Confit de canard
Ratatouille
Gâteau de ménage
Luke's was open. And probably not teeming with undead snails.