m-I've been trying to understand the sources of our appetite for neck and fries and our stubbornness in not ordering anything else at the restaurant. We're talking about a cliché because others are ordered, even from the eternally cloned menus of traditional restaurants, that it's no wonder they have so many pages that you can easily confuse them with the short prose of Russian classics.

But what else is ordered? Well, almost all grills (chicken breast or boneless legs), ribs, tenderloins, fish, fries (chicken or fish), pizza, burgers. When they are indecisive, they turn to mixtgrill.

I'm talking about a massive majority and a consumption behavior that has even become defining and the birthplace of "evil jokes". Neck and potatoes are already a dysphemism, but a stylistically undefined one because the shape does not help. Are we no longer polecats but "potato-chefarians"?

Okay, okay, but what's wrong with the back of my neck? Well, I have nothing, it's a very tasty piece of meat. I like it, just yesterday I made some halves (the cut was impressively thick) of mangalita at home. excellent (Thank you Adi Ciortan and the bowl with dishes). And a whole back of the neck in the oven, juicy, is an irrefutable delicacy. Instead of potatoes I had some mushrooms and it was very good.

As you can't see the back of your head without a mirror, so I didn't intuit the answer either, which, to top it off, had been shown to me many, many, too many times.

"I'm going to order my neck and potatoes because I don't want to risk it!".

AHA! I DON'T WANT TO RISK!

Well, after too many times I got stuck with the "chef's specialty/chef's symphony" or other variations on the theme, after pointing out enough dishes with French names that I didn't know how to pronounce except by slurring them up, after tens of disappointments brought with a fuss from the kitchen, both the papillae and the fear of "toxic infection" standardized our order.

It's good that in 2019 we have enough restaurants where you can't go wrong, it's bad that we still have restaurants, where the saying goes "better not risk".

But, most of the time, the fear returns. Somewhere in a closet of our brains, a killer monkey stares as the waiter brings you the menu (what!, haven't you seen Family Guy?). Drive the monkey away! Ignore it!

Maybe it's time to get ahead of the curve and order soufflés instead of just madeleines. Or even better: a licorice.

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