No Shirt, No Shoes, No Butter


I recently went to a seafood restaurant which had one rule: no butter.

Everyone had to eat their clams and lobster and oysters without the oozy deliciousness of our favorite dairy product. The restaurant wanted us to appreciate the saltiness of the seafood for what it was. It was an exercise in back-to-basics at the request of the hand serving the food.

Typically, I’d get annoyed by these types of restaurants. They always seemed snooty, like the steak house which refused to give you ketchup. If there’s one thing to know about me, I am not a snooty eater. (I smother my rib eye in ketchup,  much to the disgust of my husband who prefers naked meat.)

So, the no-butter rule irked me. I rolled my eyes and vowed to ask for cocktail sauce or something else they’d disapprove. But, when the butter-less crab legs arrived and I took my first bite, something amazing happened. I loved them. I licked my fingers clean not to taste the last drippings of butter, but rather to savor the salty deliciousness of crab.

I’m not giving up ketchup on my hot dogs at the ballpark this summer. But perhaps I’ll try a few favorite foods without all the razzle-dazzle of condiments. Perhaps I’ll skip the salt and pepper on my corn on the cob.  Perhaps I’ll skip the bleu cheese dressing on my fried chicken sandwich. Perhaps I’ll eat a naked hamburger.

I hate to admit that the no-butter rule changed the way I’ll eat crab forever. But this time, the customer was not always right.



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