Last night I had a jonz for some good eating. And for those of you who don't know me, I LOVE me some good, clean food. And by clean I mean: no saturated fats, no dairy, hopefully organic, no lingering fried scent in my clothes when I get home, and a top of the line Pinot Noir or Red Zin selection. Yes, I'm a snob and I ain't afraid to admit it. So after I got home from rehearsal last night I was trying to decide what to do. My friend and actress extraordinare Patrice hooked me up with two comps for Carl Hancock Rux's theatrical-musical-book reading at the Red Cat; my boy Reggie invited me to his little sister's 26th Birthday Bash in Long Beach, but what I was really jonzing for was some grub. So I called my good friends and former co-workers Karin and Regina [running buddies from my days as TV sitcom writer on Girlfriends]. The thing about Karin and Regina they always have dinner plans. And like me, they like it CLEAN.

So I bamboozled my way into their reservations at this new trendy spot called Memphis in Hollywood [a recommendation from a co-worker]. Oh, a brother was ready to lick his lips. But we had to wait, and wait some more and wait some more. Forty-five minutes later, the hostess showed up, grinning and apologizing, and escorted us upstairs to our table. If she had showed up thirty seconds later I would have gaffled that order of fried calamari from the table next to us. And dared them to say a word!

Anyway, we sat down at our table, surrounded by lots of who's-who in funky new jeans, some mellowing red velvet walls, and a waitress who looked like she won her job as a consolation prize on a game show. You know the type, out of her element but grinning and grateful. I finally ordered. A glass of Pinot Noir, a mixed green salad, pan-seared yellow tuna and steamed broccoli. And after a long suffering twenty minutes the food arrived... dirty. Man! I wasn't sure what to say. Karin and Regina seemed to be enjoying every morsel. But, in my opinion, that crap was not CLEAN: over-seared tuna without sufficient taste, mixed greens tossed in SALT, and broccoli that was stripped of tip and was all stalk. After a couple of minutes, I looked into Karin and Regina's plates and to my surprise: they had stopped eating, too. Thank God! I wasn't the only one. We agreed: not a good choice of good clean eating. Karin even confessed: I'm very particular about my food. And Regina was like, What's up with dumping blue chesse dressing on my sirloin? Yes! Hot Spot Memphis didn't realize you can't go bamboozling those with a leaning for clean. Then Karin took the words out of our mouths: "Look around at these people. These are not the kind of people who would care whether their tuna was seared in butter or olive oil." [Or something like that]. Well, we left, unfulfilled, but happy we had not given up CLEAN for trendy red walls and a waitress who won her job as consolation on a game show.

Until next time,

Keith