Mads: Ostrich Risotto

There's a new restaurant in town called Mogadishu Nights, which serves upscale Somalian cuisine. My Boston friend and I got an invite to its opening.

He ordered the Ostrich Risotto, and I got the Camel Wellington. We were very impressed, and we said as much when our French host asked how our meals were. Then I'm not sure what happened.

"Why do you do that?" My Boston friend said.

"Do what? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Go ahead, act dumb. You're such a dick sometimes."

"I'm a dick? You're eating Ostrich Risotto. You know I make a better one back home."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. Why did you need to tell the host that you make a better Ostrich Risotto?"

"Because it's true. Want me to prove it?"

"I want you to stop being a dick when we go out to eat. Waiter? Yes, we'll have our check."

"Well, at least the Camel Wellington was good."

"This isn't about the Camel Wellington."

I stood up to argue with him more vehemently, when our friend Trajan, the author, visited our table.

"Hey, did you try the Ostrich Risotto? It's better than yours, Mads."

I knocked over an entire table of food next to us as I threw Trajan off balance in giving him a wedgie. I'd had enough at that point, and apparently so had my Boston friend. At least the Camel Wellington was good.