Luke's, Monday
The dishwasher was dressed as a pirate. The cook was wearing a black and white striped shirt, a beret, and a pencil-thin mustache. The busboy stood between the two men as they faced off, wearing what looked like an antebellum ballgown, his gloved hand pressed dramatically to his forehead.
Eliot ignored all three of them, still focused almost entirely on his phone.
"Hey!" one of the waitstaff called. "I think the butcher's here!"
Eliot leaped up from his seat, nearly knocking it over. Which was a nice trick, considering that stool was bolted to the floor. "Where?!"
". . . The back door?" the waiter said, backing up slowly. "He wants you to sign for the ten pound buck the cook ordered."
Eliot was going to end up killing everyone who worked here. And it wouldn't even be because they finally annoyed him into it.
Today's specials
Braised venison with rosemary and shittake
Spinach salad with orange vinaigrette
New England apple cider cake
Luke's was open and OCD free.
Eliot ignored all three of them, still focused almost entirely on his phone.
"Hey!" one of the waitstaff called. "I think the butcher's here!"
Eliot leaped up from his seat, nearly knocking it over. Which was a nice trick, considering that stool was bolted to the floor. "Where?!"
". . . The back door?" the waiter said, backing up slowly. "He wants you to sign for the ten pound buck the cook ordered."
Eliot was going to end up killing everyone who worked here. And it wouldn't even be because they finally annoyed him into it.
Today's specials
Braised venison with rosemary and shittake
Spinach salad with orange vinaigrette
New England apple cider cake
Luke's was open and OCD free.