I'll Be Famous

25 weeks

With morning sickness long behind me and a happy protruding belly in front of me, I've finally entered the strange pregnancy food hall of fame, at least at Perkins.

After enjoying an inspiring Andrew Bird performance at the Guthrie Friday, Joe, his brother James and sister-in-law Nikki and I headed to Perkins for a late night meal.

We had possibly one of the most excited waiters I've ever seen serve people at 11:45 in a restaurant that closes at midnight, we'll call him Ted.

Brooke: "Are the gingerbread pancakes spicy?"
Ted: "No ... they're pretty much just sweet, like gingerbread. This is Perkins; it's sweet."
James, Joe, Nikki: various strange looks shooting my way.
Brooke: "I'll take the gingerbread pancakes."

Shortly after taking my first bite I come to realize that they a) do not taste very good at all and b) are grossly undercooked. Ted offers to make me more pancakes (cooked ones) but I opt for a waffle instead.

Powdered-sugar dusted waffle in front of me, I dig in and find it satisfying. But half way through I spot Ted and call him over.

Brooke: "Can you bring me some hot sauce?"
Ted: scampers off dutifully.
Joe: crazy-blue-eyes look.
Brooke: "What? The waiter didn't say anything about it, if he doesn't say anything about it, neither can you."
waiter returns.
Ted: "I just have to ask, are you going to use that on your waffle?"

Ted goes on to respond that if I do I have to tell him because they keep a list of all of the strange requests they get, which is passed on from waiter to waiter as tradition.

I later tell him it was delicious and he should try it. I'm pretty sure I will live on in perpetuity at the Perkins at 494 and France as that crazy lady who ate a Belgan Waffle with whipped cream and Tabasco.