At my favourite table right by the door, enjoying the last sunlight of the day.
There’s a Korean-American family of four at the table in front of me. The eldest boy is lost in a Roald Dahl book. The youngest insists he isn’t a baby when his mother tries to feed him a brisket slider. It is not so uncommon even for adults to feed each other, less so after a few drinks. One is essentially creating a morsel of love for the other. This son is the one whose eyes widen when he sees whiskey on the menu; his father asked him to choose a drink. He eventually settled on blue lemonade.
The husband jokingly says “one shot” when the beers arrive. The wife rolls her eyes; not for the the first or last time. The father explains to his eldest how to eat a pulled pork sandwich; he continues reading his book. Food for thought beats a thought for food, this time.