was a momentous occasion for me.
I admitted to liking key lime pie.
In a world of apple and cherry pie-lovers,
it can be a bold move to embrace key-lime. Not quite as risky
as claiming pecan pie as your fave, but still pretty risky.
And that was
only the beginning of my night.
I also had
my very first “Moons Over My Hammy” from Denny’s.
a rite of passage…it was like a grease-drenched Bar Mitzvah for
the 21st Century.
I always joke about that particular
entree’s name. But I had never ordered it. As a person who doesn’t
eat mammals, it’s tough to order food that is centered around
ham (or “Hammy” as the case may be).
But recently I saw someone order
it without ham. “A Moons Over My Hammy with no Ham!?!? Its
just crazy enough to work!!”
So I ordered
the dish with the silliest nomenclature in the laminated Denny’s
And while I
love the MOMH’s name, the literary peak of the Denny’s Menu is
under their “Fit Fare” section. A variation of the Grand Slam
breakfast: “The Slim Slam – This isn’t no Flim-Flam…”
It’s really a pity the menu doesn’t
contain writers credits, because I’d love to see more of his or
her work. “Slim Slam: This ain’t no Flim-Flam.” Brilliant.
So my “Moons
Over My Absence of Hammy” arrives at the table. It’s basically
a grilled cheese sandwich with eggs in it. Lots of cheese. Lots
of AMERICAN cheese. Apparently the “Over” stands for “Overdose
we’re on the subject, what is up with American cheese? It is
so processed and gross! As an American, I’m embarrassed. How
can I be proud of the Velveeta-inspired atrocity known as “American
Cheese?” In that cultural battle, I’m gonna award the point to
the French. California brags about their cheeses, so does Wisconsin.
So, regionally we do okay. But as a country, we suck. “America:
Amber Waves of Grain and Suck-Ass Cheese.”
finish my MOMH. I had a pain in my gut and my arteries started
to ache. But as I left Denny’s huddled over like teen who’d drunk
too much Boone’s Strawberry Hill, I knew that I had become a Man.