I'm always up for a good story, especially one that makes me chuckle. Sometimes I seek out situations where these stories might be found. From what I have learned over the years, dive bars are notorious for these conditions right around lunch time. Anytime you find an imbiber that has had a tipple or three during daylight hours you will surely come away with something good.
It was a nice Spring day in Connecticut. The sun was shining without a cloud in the sky. The birds were chirping. There was a dog barking down the street at some passers by and I was raking leaves. Working in the yard doing my Spring clean-up had surely made me hungry. I was in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger at the bar around the corner. I gave the rake a rest and headed on over to get some grub.
I chose a seat at the bar that was a few seats away from a guy and woman. Let's call her Betsy. They had some empty shot glasses and a few beers in front of them at the end of the bar. It was a safe spot to eavesdrop while I stare at a football game on the TV that I really didn't care about. The bartender, distracted by conversation with the early-birds, took my order for the burger and beer. He slid my Dogfish Head 60 minute IPA over to me as I looked around the bar. The room smelled of stale beer from the night before. It was a perfect setting.
As I heard the couple order another round of beers and two more shots of Jameson, some guy sits down next to me. I thought that it was kind of odd that he chose to sit in the seat next to me when the 15 seat bar was all but empty except for me and the couple. I didn't know him and he was breaking that unspoken don't-sit-next-to-a-stranger rule. Everyone knows this rule. You just have to pay attention the next time you're on a train or bus, at the DMV, in an airport or IN A BAR. It might have to do with personal space or something. Apparently, this guy was absent that day in school. Anyway, he ordered a beer and a burger as well. Now, he was okay in my book.
The couple at the end of the bar were chatting it up with the bartender about favorite dishes at this fine establishment. As my burger arrived, I butted in and said that I really enjoyed eating the bacon cheeseburger. My new found friend and space invader agreed. He added that the nacho platter was also delicious. I, however, had never tried this delicious nacho platter. I made a mental note on that one.
With drunken slurred speech and mild profanity, the conversation turned to favorite dishes of all time outside of the bar. This piqued my interest. I chimed in and voted for a BLT and warm tomato soup. Do you agree? It's the ultimate comfort food. I could totally go for one right now. My buddy claimed his dish to be Shepherd's Pie. Good choice, I thought. The barkeep said that he always enjoyed a good home cooked Mac & Cheese- with bacon, of course. Betsy, quite emphatically, proclaimed that the way she prepares a leg of lamb was "the best in the world". I chimed in and said I wasn't really a fan of lamb. It's just too gamey for me."No, no, no" Betsy slurred. "You just have to order it the right way at the butcher."
"What do you mean?" I said. Frankly, I was shocked that this woman actually went to a real butcher.
"I'll share a little known secret with you. This is the greatest tip ever." Betsy spoke as if the words fell out of her mouth in a way that she needed to wipe her chin with a napkin. "The next time you go to the butcher and get a leg of lamb, ask for the left leg."

"What? Why??" I said. I was totally lost as to why I would ask for the left leg. The bartender giggled. The space invader raised his right eyebrow mid-burger-chomp. Betsy's friend pointed to her as if to say "Listen to this tip. She's absolutely right".
Betsy looked at me with that shit-eating grin like she's going to one-up me and said "The left leg is tender because the little lamb sleeps on it's left side."
"What?????" I laughed. "Are you serious??"
"I swear to God" Betsy said. "Ask your butcher!"
Now, I'm no butcher. But...




