As soon as he bit into the salmon, Clark felt sick. A few minutes later, I was politely, apologetically asked to leave.
What a disappointment.
"How about if I bring you some homemade matzo ball soup?" I offered the next day. Good move, right? I'd win him over for sure.
My soup turned out great. Clark appreciated it so much that he bargained for potato latkes next. I agreed, with a playful (but serious) disclaimer, "That's going to be it for my Jewish dishes, though."