I despise Tapas. I hate all forms of community food, really. Family Style…Share Size…Group Meal. Blech! Just give me my plate of food that I ordered and everyone else – keep your dirty hands away! Appetizers and Chips and Salsa are the exception to this rule, of course.
Here’s my theory on Tapas in particular. You meet your friends (obviously a couples night because no guy in his right mind would pick Tapas, anyways) at the latest Tapas-du-jour joint. After a few drinks to loosen up at the bar and some time to enjoy the appetizing smells, you get to your table. You find something you love on the menu. Empanadas. Awesome! My favorite. Your neighbor wants to go nuts. Corn-relish stuffed quail soaked in mole sauce. Sounds interesting. And disgusting. I’ll have that please. You’re the only one who orders anything sensible, but after one sumptuous bite the plate is quickly whisked away from you only to be fed to the ravenous hyenas at your table. The frog satays are passed to you. You and your wife stop by McDonald’s on the way home to silence the hunger pangs. It’s a losing proposition every time. Be a man and just say no to Tapas.
