Tapas. It's a grand word. One of our favorites, actually. We are at our best when we are ordering small plates of food, because we can distract our dining companions with a humorous bon mot or something (we are so those people—witty as hell), and begin to order as if a giant, flaming asteroid is screaming toward Earth making this, ostensibly, our very last meal. Like, "Code Blue" ordering. Finally, when someone stops us, we still have the reflexes to sneak in a "...and pork tacos" as the waitperson is walking away.
See? It doesn't matter, it's tapas. Small plates. So what if last time we did it there were about 14 plates for three of us? Okay, sixteen, and some dessert stuff, too. But, for argument's sake, let's call it 11.
But it's all soooo good. Meats, cheeses, sauces, fried potatoes, and if you are lucky, a combination of all of those. It is truly a wondrous eating concept, tapas is. And probably a great name for a pet or child. "Come here, Tapas!" Now, doesn't that make you happy?
As far as us over-ordering, don't worry your pretty little head about that. We'll be fine. Just drink your stupid wine while we clean the plates. See? All better.