Had a lovely dinner last night at Morrell's with David, one of the rugby club's supporters. It's restaurant week or whatever they call it, basically loads of the really good, ritzy restaurants run $20 lunch and $30 dinner prix-fixe menus.

We had crawfish gumbo, Amish chicken and mashed potatoes, and butterscotch Napoleon. And a delicious bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

Nice.

Service sucked, but what can you do?

I'm not exactly sure what made the chicken Amish. I doubt if it was any particular religious conviction of the part of the chicken. I would imagine, given the wholesale slaughter of their kind, that most chickens would be atheist. Or at least agnostic. But then trouble didn't turn Job from God, so maybe the chickens are just really pious.

Or maybe to earn the name the chickens have to be driven to slaughter in a large, black eighteen-wheeler pulled by a team of horses?

Who knows? Damn tasty, though.