To Garlic Or Not To Garlic?

'lil bit

I had a nice Homeslice-related weekend with my friend Mike D, who was visiting from Texarkana. Friday night we went to Homeslice manager Nano Whitman‘s gig at Lambert’s.  It was packed and he rocked out, partnering for a few songs with Kat Edmondson, whose voice has a neat eerie yet soothing sound.  Mike D and I felt a little schlubby compared to the rest of the hip, well-dressed crowd.

There was a bunch of Homeslice folks at the show, including one of the owners.  I felt sorta awkward around them.  Do I sit down at their already-crowded corner booth and act like we’re old friends, or do I give them space since they’re off the clock and no longer obligated to bring me pizza and beer?

How about the owner lady, how should I act around her?  Should I take her to the bar and buy her dozens of shots?  What if she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, since I’m taking thousands of $$$ worth of pizza from her this year?

In the end, I decided to give the ‘Sliceys some space to enjoy a night out on their own.  They see me all the time anyway.

The next night, Mike D, Erin and I went to Homeslice.  Erin was working until 8:30, so when I went to put my name on the seating list, I told Clare (the super friendly hostess) that my girlfriend would be joining us a little late.  “Girlfriend?”  My fiance, she corrected me.  It just doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, and since I’ve called her my girlfriend for 8ish years, this whole fiance thing is a little new to me.

Other waitstaff who hadn’t seen us in a while (over a week) came by to congratulate us.  Erin commented that Homeslice really has turned into my “Cheers”.

Anyhoo, we were eventually seated, and I let Mike D choose the toppings.  He only wanted a few: kalamata olives, fried eggplant and mushrooms, thus abiding by the Homeslice principle of “less is more”.  I’m a “more is more” kinda guy and great derider of said principle, but he was the guest so I let it fly.  I did push hard for garlic though.

He hesitated because he had high hopes for the night ahead.  Being a liberal, Jewish, Manu Chao loving, save-the-world-through-healthcare-for-the-poor doctor slogging through his residency in Texarkana, he was hoping to hit it big with the brainy ladies of Austin.  After an awkward, quasi-hypothetical exchange with the waitress about whether Austin ladies view garlic breath as a make-out no-no, Mike D agreed to including garlic.  Her response was anything but encouraging, but Erin and I prodded him a little bit to add the deliciousness.

There was only one piece left over, and rather than cluttering up our apartment with yet another pizza box, we decided to wrap it up in a napkin, like a little afikomen.  It’s ironic because the last time Mike D rumbled through Austin was Passover, and when we went to pizza I scraped off all the toppings and sauce onto some matzah.

During this latest meal, Tara, Homeslice’s internetstress, passed me some disturbing gossip: someone she knows is taking three days off work to compete against me (and Erin) in this years Hands on an Eggplant Sub contest.  That sounds like formidable dedication.  Nothing Erin and I can’t handle though.  I hope…