Tartar Sauce

My whole life my mother has detested tartar sauce. Ordering fish at the Weathervane, she always says "Don't bring me ANY tartar sauce." Just the thought of it makes her wrinkle her nose, shake her head from side to side and exclaim, "Bleckkkk!"

So imagine my surprise when we stopped at MacDonald's yesterday for lunch and she opened her fish sandwich and tartar sauce was oozing out. I was about to say, "Oh Mom, so sorry. I forgot to tell them no tartar sauce." But she pulled up the top, looked right at the cream colored gob, and said, "I can't get this piece of fish centered on the bun." No repulsive expletive. Nothing! So I said nothing. Lately she's been eating food she has refused her whole life. I'm not sure, but I wonder if she has forgotten what some foods are.

I helped her get the fish centered on the bun and held my breath as I watched my mother take a huge, tartar-sauce-laden bite. I was certain she would instantly spit it out, make a scene like Tom Hanks spat out caviar in one of my favorite movies, "Big." I was sure she was going to wipe it off her tongue, gagging and spitting, and reaching for her Diet Coke. But no, she just munched it down and returned for more.

"How's your sandwich, Mom?" I couldn't resist.

"It's very good!"

The tartar sauce spilled out as she ate and covered a couple of her fingers. She said, "They sure put a lot of butter on this sandwich!"


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Location:Gile Rd,Nottingham,United States