Nobody told me their name, nobody crouched at the table, and it was the best service of my life.

Every menu is a persuasion document. The useful question is which kinds of persuasion are honest.

I have changed my mind about tipping twice, which is two more times than most people arguing about it.

The announcement always lands on a Tuesday, always as a photo of a handwritten note taped inside the door.

Six weeks of waiting, fifty minutes of queueing, and then a sandwich that deserved better than what I brought to it.

By course nine I had stopped tasting and started counting, which is the failure state of the long tasting menu.