Brit’s dad opens the menu, flips through it, puts it down. He turns to me. And here it comes: “Maybe it’d be easier if you just ordered for us, Frank?” I smile, but inside I’m irked. Brit’s dad, despite his very Anglo last name of Means, would never be able to explain everything about, say, Irish cuisine. More importantly, he would never be expected to. Brit’s dad is only ever expected to be one thing, and that’s plain old generic American.
Noted. This is important
