One recent side effect of serving as designated eater is that seeing my name and address handwritten in Catholic school cursive now makes me hungry. Following prospecting tips sifted from my 1 News Plaza mailbox, repeatedly turns up shining nuggets I’ve missed. Time after time, these epistles have taken me inside restaurants I had driven by ad nauseum, oversights I am grateful to repair.
When you're so old you don't buy green bananas, as the axiom goes, you make the most of rare opportunities to dine. Getting out to the car, navigating public roadways at dinnertime, and deciding what to eat can be a hassle, but it’s worth the tsuris to eat someone else's cooking.