‘Mom! “says my daughter as she studies the menu at our New York City restaurant. “The food here is absurdly expensive. It’s $1,030 for scalloped potatoes!”
“Expensive?” I ask. “Isn’t this prix fixe?”
Ah, but then I see what she means. Printed next to the name of every dish is a small, damning number. But it’s not for dollars; it’s for calories. The grim accounting of the price your health pays for a meal here.