Some Like It Hot

(I was out to dinner the other night with my grandparents and my cousin, who is a year older than me and just turned 25. Our waiter is taking our orders:)

Cousin: “I’ll have the lamb chops with a side Caesar salad.”

Waiter: “And what temperature would you like your lamb chops?”

Cousin: “Uh… hot?”

(We all attempt to contain our laughter.)

Waiter: “Oh, I meant like medium or well done. Like, what doneness do you want your meat?”

Cousin: “Oh! Um I’ll have it…”

Grandfather: “Cooked!”

(My grandmother and I burst out laughing as the waiter tries his hardest to hold back laughter.)

Cousin: “…I’ll have it medium.”

(After the waiter walked away.)

Me: “How would you like your meat cooked? Over a bed of coals in a brick oven for four hours.”

(My grandparents start laughing again. Later on when our food is brought to our table.)

Grandmother: “Oh, [Cousin], how are your lamb chops?”

Me: “Are they hot?”

(We’re never letting him live this one down.)