Eating Money

There is a restaurant here in Maine called The Lost Kitchen. It's in a farmhouse somewhere, I forget but you can look it up. It's run by a woman who I guess is a great cook, but then there are lots of us around. Anyway, this particular woman had the chutzpah and the backing to open her little piece of heaven and charge outrageous amounts for meals people chew, swallow, digest and poop out into the toilet the next day.

The price of one of her meals is fixed at $250 plus a tip of $62.50, making it $312.50 per person, not including wine or beer which costs extra and you can't bring your own. (Are you still with me?) The meal begins at 5:30 pm sharp and lasts for five hours. So my husband thought it might be a fun experience despite the price, and thus we embarked on the rigorous journey of securing a table at that establishment. I figured at the very least I'd get a blog post out of it.

To get a reservation you have to send a standard-sized postcard with your name, address, email and phone number. It must be mailed on the exact date as instructed on the restaurant's website. Then they pull cards at random in a lottery beginning April 23 and call you if yours is chosen. 

Today I got the call! From a very hoity-toity sounding guy who said, "This is your happy call!" He left a message saying I had to call back, leave my name and phone number on their voicemail, and they would call me again.

I did that. (I know, I'm an idiot.) 

Anyway, as it turned out they had "already filled the whole dining season" but had kept a very few open seats for Maine residents, because well, "Maine people aren't really our ..." and his voice drifted off, leaving me to wonder what we aren't really. But there were just two weekends left to choose from, and no tables for two. If we were a party of three or four or six they could seat us, but we are just two, so we can't go. (But if there were six of us, we could. Or three. Or four. Go figure.)

Mitch misses out on the fun experience, but I did get my blog post.