WAITER, I’LL HAVE WHAT HE’S HAVING

I don’t own a restaurant, so this may be viewed as a lot of whiny carping, but would it be too much to ask to have your people proofread your sorry-ass menu before you send it out to the printers?

At one local eatery, the Sunday brunch menu offered a “peach compost.” No, thanks. I believe I’ll be ordering something else with my “trench toast.” [OK, I made that last one up.]

At another place - this one in Roswell, just a few miles up the road - I was tempted to order the “mescaline salad.” But then I figured it would be tough on the drive home. “Gee, lookit all the pretty colors! My brain is, like, all Photoshop ’n’ shit!”

Yep, mescaline. Makes you see things funny - as opposed to LSD, which makes you see funny things. At least, that’s what they tell me.

Maybe the guy who wrote the menu had him some of that mescaline salad.

We won’t even comment on the Great Portobello / Portabello Mushroom debate. [Yes, we will. It’s Portobello, folks.] And if you want to throw in a French term or two, be my guest, only spell it right, SVP. “Buerre” just looks stupid. The wine list is also a death trap for the orthographically challenged.

Rather than spend any more time on this little rant, I’ll just sum it up for all y’all restauranteurs in a handy little epigraph:

“If you can’t spell it, don’t sell it.”