One of those places with terrible lighting and tiny portions. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I didn’t want to make any waves.“The chef here is supposed to be world class, but I’m not seeing anything that great on the menu,” Fin said, his eyes skipping back and forth. I definitely didn’t see anything I wanted and I wasn’t a very picky eater.“Oh?” I said, trying to gauge whether he was thinking of leaving, or if we’d stay anyway.“Yeah. Do you see anything?” I looked around at the place. It was cold and impersonal. Sparse furnishings, poor lighting and oddly shaped chairs that looked like they’d hurt your back. It was supposed to be “modern,” but it came off pretentious.“Not really.” Honesty was best, right?He slapped the menu down on the table. “Then what are we doing here?” he asked, pushing his chair, standing and giving me his hand with a smile. “Come with me.” “Now this, this is perfect,” I said twenty minutes later when we were sitting on a bench in the park, eating fish tacos purchased from one of the many food trucks that seemed to buzz around the city like bees.“Mobile food is one of the best creations, don’t you think?
