Who Invited You To Lunch Anyway?

Recently, my husband and I were in the Tampa airport after a beautiful weekend celebrating my husband’s family. We were in a glow due to the sharing of memories and stories. We had plenty of time before our flight, so we settled into a restaurant near our departing gate for a lingering lunch. Upon perusal of the menu, I was thrilled to see the option of an appetizer which was described as “homemade fried potato chips with bacon, green onions, and garlic aioli sauce.”

This was a no brainer for me. Channeling my Irish heritage and the fact that I grew up on tater tots, I love all things potato. From the French inspired gruyere cheese casserole dripping with bubbly and browned deliciousness to the perfect anytime comfort side dish called mashed potatoes, I love potatoes. So, when I see on a menu that an airport restaurant has an option for homemade potato chips, I’m all in. Upon asking our young server, Nick if he recommended the potato dish, he paused and replied, “It’s a pretty substantial serving,” he said. “Definitely enough for the table.”

“Sounds great,” I said to Nick. “I’ll have that.”

“Are you sure?” my husband challenged. “You really want a plate of fried potato chips?” Well, say no more. Once someone challenges my love of potatoes, the ship has sailed. Bring on the aioli.

Within minutes, the mouthwatering oversized tangible heart disease was placed before me. I mean, the plate really did take up my entire side of the two seat table. I’d never seen such a display of potato nirvana, and suddenly I was transported to some sort of heavenly cholesterol overload.

“Whoa,” I heard my husband say, as I reached for my first green onion and bacon topped potato chip. “I can’t believe you ordered that,” he continued with raised eyebrows as if he suddenly didn’t know who was sitting across from him. Apparently, the plate of potatoes qualified me as an unrecognized version of alien status.

“That’s a big plate of chips,” he went on. “I’ve never seen so much bacon in one place,” he said as he bit into his green leaf salad with balsamic vinaigrette. And then, just when I really began to enjoy the marriage of potatoes with everything else, I heard my annoying husband add, “I can’t believe you’re eating that.”

I felt my Irish ire on the rise. Apparently, he thought the scene before him was quite funny. My husband’s laughter became infectious. And then there was our server, Nick, who kept checking on me, asking if I needed more water or maybe a Bloody Mary drink to accompany the salty chips.  What the heck was going on?  Can’t a perfectly sane woman feast on an oversized plate of fried potato chips in peace?

To make matters worse, the woman sitting alone at the table next to me commented on how good the chips looked. But then she said there was no way she could eat such a big plate of chips. Just then Nick placed a small cup with about a 5-chip-capacity in front of her. Why didn’t I think of that? Finally, I looked at my dear husband of over 40 years and said, “Who invited you to lunch?”

Eventually, we had Nick and the woman next to me laughing along with us. I could have easily fed the entire airport terminal with my leftovers. All I know is, about an hour into our flight home, my husband noted how hungry he was. “Hmmm,” I said, “I can’t believe you ordered that salad.”