Making a Meal of It
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer


Prompt: char



I arrived in New Orleans on the anniversary of a fire that, way back in 1788, had succeeded in burning down eight hundred of the eleven hundred houses in the place at the time. I heard somebody say that it was the first time the place saw blackened anything. I don’t believe it, though. Naturally, they rebuilt the place, but you can expect either fire or flood around here.

In hindsight, it might have been an omen, but lazy-lay bon tom roolay, I guess that’s how they say it down there. French, am I right?

The Consumer Household Appliance Retailers convention was this week, so after the opening meeting and the standard rounds of pawshakes and fake goodwill, I decided to stroll along the French Quarter in search of something to eat.

After Mardi Gras, you don’t see really big crowds of people, which suits me just fine. I can’t stand a lot of folks around me, which is why I don’t go to dance clubs or mosh pits.

Anyway, I started looking for a seafood place that was open and wasn’t charging tourist prices. Had to wander around for a while, I’ll tell you, but I did find one. I get shown to a seat, excellent service, and the waiter takes my order.

I’m sipping a glass of chilled white wine when the waiter brings me a plate that has . . .

Well, it might have started life as a fish, I think, but it was shedding cinders and still had a few wisps of flame coming off it. It was also totally black.

“What the hell is this?” I demanded.

The waiter blinks at me. “You said you wanted it char – “

“No,” I said. “I said I wanted blackened Arctic char!”

I sent him kiting back to the kitchen, a threat to summon the manager nipping at his heels, while I mentally calculated how much to deduct from his tip.



end