Our compliments to the chef

Last weekend, Matt took me to Woodberry Kitchen in Baltimore for my birthday. I loved the food--especially the emphasis on local, sustainable agriculture. Matt, on the other hand, won't be requesting a return visit for his birthday.

As soon as we sat down, our waiter talked ad nauseam about their "extremely special" pork feature that was butchered on-site and came from a farm in New Jersey that only sold to three restaurants in the entire world. I believe the word "succulent" was used at least five times. A few minutes later, he came back to ask if we had any questions. He saw me looking at the wine list and went off on another five-minute oration about a specific region in California that produces some of the finest wine blends this side of Bordeaux. Apparently, he lived there for quite some time and "really experienced" the wine. Matt was so annoyed by this time, that he refused to make eye contact and insisted that we order everything quickly and avoid all possible conversation starters. I thought we were in the clear until we discovered the cheese appetizer we wanted wasn't available. Our waiter used this as an opportunity to tell us the names and favorite colors of the goats the other selections came from.

I think the waiter sensed our (okay, Matt's) irritation. Not more than five minutes after taking our order, he not only complimented the next table on their wonderful meal order, but also brought them an order of oysters on the house. Just a few minutes after that, the chef visited another table and brought them a free dessert.

Rachel: "Check that out. The chef is visiting that table over there."
Matt: "Really? Why?"
Rachel: "I don't know. Maybe they did that whole 'compliments to the chef' thing."
Matt: "You mean, they burped really loudly?"

And the mystery of the oil-and-water relationship of Matt and Woodberry Kitchen continues...