No, not Shari Lewis’s hand puppet. Real lamb chops. From the chops of the lamb.
The last time I had them was, oh, I don’t know, maybe 30 years ago.
Though my mother used to broil them for the family with some regularity, somehow I got off-track and abandoned them.
Well, not off-track, exactly. More like a detour as a result of a bad experience.
Ordered them for dinner at an upscale restaurant. And, what they brought me were two of the scrawniest, skinniest, most pathetic looking things I had ever seen. Not enough meat on the bone to satisfy anyone, at any level of hunger.
That’s it! Never again. I’m very absolute about some stuff.
And so, for three decades, I went without lamb chops.
There was no feeling of deprivation. And it certainly was not a huge sacrifice. Plainly, and the empirical evidence stands before you, I was quite able to make-do.
For instance, I rocketed from a 155-pounder with long hair to a 180-pounder with short hair over the course of the 30 lamb chop-less years.
At the invitation of the Lockport, NY Public Library, I gave a presentation to 35 of their local guests on April 15th. The talk was scheduled to begin at 6:30 p.m.
To accommodate the schedule, I had a Senior Citizen-timed dinner. That’s 5 p.m. for those who are not yet of-age.
Rolling the dice at the Shamus Restaurant in Lockport, I ordered lamb chops.
And accompanied by terrific and pleasant service from Leslie, my server.
Following dinner, the talk at the Library went well (in my judgment), the hosts were genuinely hospitable and appreciative, and the audience attending my talk was engaged and interested.
All great ways to end an evening.
I do wonder, as in the commercial, what else I’ve been missing out on over the past three decades, however.
Like squash. Or coconut.