Canis: the restaurant I don’t really want to tell you about
I don’t really want to tell you about my meal at Canis. Royce convinced me to do it, but that doesn’t mean that I want to.
But please, allow me to explain. It’s not that I’m hoarding, trying to keep a good restaurant all to myself. The logic isn’t lost on me that the better a restaurant does the longer it will be around. And furthermore, I’m a planner. If something is worth it, I have no qualms making the effort required to reserve a dinner advance.
My resistance to share is driven by a fear that is deeply rooted in a marriage between superstition and paranoia. It’s something that’s developed, nay festered, over the years.
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