Candid Camera--without the camera

On Sunday night, my sister, Saralyn, and I went to a wonderful South American wine tasting event. She had called the day before to get all the details and was told that it was very casual and that waiters would be walking around with appetisers and tapas (we thought appetisers and tapas were one in the same) for us to sample along with the wines. I was very excited to do something so "grown up" for a change. The time for the event was listed as 6-9. We thought that we could go at any time between those hours and leave when we were ready.

We arrived a little after 6 at the restaurant and found almost all of the tables to be full and most people to be dressed quite a bit nicer than we were. We were seated at lovely table and told that our first course would be out momentarily and that we could head to the wine bar to sample something. There were seven courses in all, very fancy for Las Cruces standards and much nicer than any meal I have ever had. The dinner lasted until almost nine thirty with no chance to leave before then, so it was a (nice), leisurely affair with time to talk and relax and just enjoy.

Or, anyway, that was the point. I'll give you the course menu, including some of the ingredients, and then tell you why we kept waiting for someone to come out with a camera to tell us that we had been set up and were going to be on a national candid camera show.

COURSE 1: Crab and Shrimp Ceviche with avacado and lime
COURSE 2: Stuffed Avacado--diced ham, egg, green chile, lettuce
COURSE 3: Olive and Roasted Red Pepper Tapenade
COURSE 4: Chorizo Encrusted Fish
COURSE 5: Pork Medallion with Mango Salsa and Carmelized Plantains
COURSE 6: Shrimp and Muscle Paella--lamb, chorizo, and chicken in the paella
COURSE 7: Tres Leches and Orange Flan

Now, here's the problem with this fancy menu that was prepared wonderfully by a Cordon Bleu-trained chef. I am a vegetarian. I have not eaten meat or fish in three-and-a-half years. My sister is not a vegetarian but is a long-time hater of all things pork (ham, chorizo, etc.) and all things of the sea as well as olives of any sort.

This was a fancy meal, not one where you feel comfortable picking at your food. There were no vegetarian options for anything. The chef cooked what she cooked and the waiters served each identical plate to every diner in the restaurant. When we were brought the first course, we both did our best to pick through it. I ate my first meat in three and a half years in that ceviche. I then told my waiter that I would be picking through the dishes because I was a vegetarian. I told him that I would try to eat the seafood, but would not eat any of the other meat. He felt horrible for me, but there was nothing he could do. I decided I would make the best of it and survive if some seafood crossed my lips this one time.

Then course number two arrived, covered in diced ham. I carefully picked all the ham out of mine and ate what was underneath. Saralyn ate as much ham as she could handle, after already having to eat some seafood in the previous course. We knew that it had to get better.

That is when the tapendade arrived. It was a welcome sight to me, no meat of any sort. Saralyn again had to do her best to eat some, even though olives are high on her do-not-eat list. Three courses down, and we were hoping that it was almost over. We had no clue at that time that there were four more left to come.

It was now time for the chorizo encrusted fish. It was starting to get a little past comical to the point of being a little unreal and horrifying. It was a beautiful dish, and the other diners raved about it. But to me, it was meat covering more meat. To Saralyn, it was fish covered with pork. I ate my little piece of fish (did I mention that I grew up in the mountains of New Mexico and never had much fish other than fish sticks and never grew a liking for it, even in my pre-vegetarian days??) and tried to take a bit of Saralyn's, so her plate wouldn't look too bad. Saralyn ate her chorizo and tried to eat a bit of fish.

I guess I should mention that there were a couple nice men walking around (managers, I guess)asking how we liked everything. They were so proud of the dishes and were watching to see how we liked each course and making sure everything was perfect. They were so proud of this fancy little event they were having, and we were trying so hard to be gracious of all their hard work.

It was then time for the main course. We were sure it was time for a break from the pork/seafood run. Nope. It was time for the pork medallion. Saralyn ate hers, and I pushed mine to the side and ate the mango salsa and three tiny carmelized plantains. We had long-since lost our appetite for any wine. We didn't really want to put anything into our mouths. The hours were dragging by, and we really just wanted this all to end. We were also watching for the candid camera. This was too crazy to be true. They could not have better planned any meal to feature all those things we just do not eat. We were sick to our stomachs, and we were tired.

Our one hope--dessert should come after the main course, right? Right? Surely it would. That was when we overheard the waiters behind us talking about what would come next. When they said the words "shrimp and muscle paella" we truly thought we had to be dreaming--or in some torture chamber--or on candid camera. Muscles? Seriously? How long could this night last?

It took them quite a while to bring out this complicated dish. Meanwhile, couples around us held hands and conversed about topic after topic. A table of college student near us was full of young men trying to be charming enough to attract the attention of any one of the pretty young ladies. We didn't know what to talk about other than the food. I was trying to keep my mind separated from my body so that I wouldn't get sick. I didn't want to let myself in on the secret that I really was eating course after course of seafood and not tofu.

I have never eaten a muscle before. I never plan to eat another one. I have the vision in my head of that little sucker that stays behind when you pull the muscle out of the shell. That really emphasized the fact that this was a living creature not too terribly long ago. "See, that little part is how I breathe (or eat, or whatever they do with that thing)." Did the little muscle not realize that I already felt bad? Did it have to rub it in by leaving behind a little trace of it's being?

That sixth course is when Saralyn finally gagged a bit. She tried to eat some of the shrimp, but just couldn't handle the texture or the sound it made when she chewed it. I had once been a lover of shrimp, so I thought that I would be able to almost enjoy it. Not so much. I took a bite or two, but I AM A VEGETARIAN FOR GOODNESS SAKE. Meat of any sort does not taste good to me.

Saralyn hates all sorts of cooked fruit, and neither of us is a fan of cherries, so we were quite sure that there would be some sort of cooked cherry dish for dessert. There was no other way they could better drive in this constant torture. When they brought out tres leches and orange flan, we were quite shocked. We ate it, but probably did not enjoy it as much as we should have. We were sick. We were tired. We had tried to separate our taste buds from the rest of our bodies.

Poor Saralyn even had to pay for this event--a lot of money, I'm sure. She certainly treated us to a night that we will never forget. An "adventure" is what we call it in our family. We will not be able to make it to the next wine tasting, I'm afraid. Or any one in the future as far as our lives go on. No matter how it is described over the phone. We're done.

We wonder what ever happened to that candid camera, though. Hmm.