The other day, I was with friends at a lovely restaurant for lunch. The three of us scrutinized the menu, grimaced at it, rubbed our chins, puckered our frown lines, hemmed, sighed… this went on for about twenty minutes.
And then we started to complain.
Not that there was nothing to choose from. There were multiple headings including Small Plates, Appetizers, Hearty Salads, Heart Healthy Options, etc.
Not that there wasn’t enough variety. The offerings ranged from specialties of the Far East to those of the American Southwest and fusions in between.
Not that the options didn’t seem enticing. I was hard-pressed to choose between grilled tilapia tacos, crostini with brie, figs, and prosciutto, Asian salad with pecans and orange sauce…
No. Our complaint centered on there being too much choice!
“Just give me a menu with five options and I’d be happy,” I moaned…
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