Son of a Gun is exciting.

Nothing excites me.

I’m like Winnie the Pooh’s Eeyore.

I’m often accompanied by a black cloud over head.

There’s often a black fly in my chardonnay.

It’s ironic.

Until Son of a Gun.

Finally, a reason to live.

Ok, I’m clearly exaggerating but I’ve never wanted to order so many things off a menu before!

And the folks sitting next to us ordered all different stuff. All stuff I regretted not ordering.

Why did I decline their offer to taste??

(Oh, because it was after 20 minutes of them being finished so I wouldn’t exactly call their soggy leftovers appetitzing. But sweet of them to ask!)

As they grilled us on all the restaurants we’ve not yet been to (the one downfall of the meal was, as nice as the peeps next to us were, I don’t love sitting on the laps of our neighbors. When caught in this situation, you may as well introduce yourselves at the start because you’re about to experience every word of each other’s conversations).

The meal of the night was the Alligator Schnitzel, so many unique flavors going on there, including being set on a golden pool of maple syrup which was much appreciated.

The fish in pho broth was so fresh and creative, I couldn’t stop eating it. Even though I was grossing out my friend with all the double dipping.

“Uh… that’s fine…you can have the rest.”

The country ham was, perhaps, the saltiest substance known to man. The kind that guarantees puffy eyes and sausage fingers the next day.

The salt content, sadly, rendered it almost inedible. Almost. It was still so flavorful I took it to go!

(Need to kill some slugs out back)

Thanks for an amazing meal Nancy!

While it’s rare I will ever revisit a restaurant, even a great one, I’m coming back to Son of a Gun.

Mark your calendars, people.