Old Santa Fe restaurant, Denver

The chips are warm as if they've been re-toasted. The sauce is a bit hot.

The plate is so hot that it radiates heat at the table. Touch the plate and it hurts. Straight out of the salamander, you can tell, the cheese on the beans is toasted. I asked the waitress how she carried the plate to the table and she held out her hands for inspection. I felt them with my fingertips to see if they're made of asbestos or what and they're perfectly soft ordinary hands. She said, "It's my job 7 days a week." She was bussing all the tables, fixing all the mixed drinks, performing waitress, cocktail waitress, bartender and hostess duties. 

There ought to be a law against such labor exploitation. My philosophy is tip at least double especially when eating alone. In her case due to it being Independence Day, el Quatro de Julio around here, then 4X the usual rate. It's holiday! The tip costs as much as the meal.

I was sitting there thinking, and nearly said, "Man, you got to be a pig to eat this much food. Then ate nearly all of it. Nearly 2/3 all then scooped the remainder into Glad storage containers that fit into my backpack (takeaway styrofoam containers do not) so when the waitress returned the table had the appearance of having been vacuumed by a voracious insatiable animal. Chips, picante sauce, beans, rice, every particle of food provided disappeared and it is not obvious to where.

The cutest couple was sitting opposite the room the whole time and interfering parties kept obstructing. Then finally a chance to snap one off.  I only ever saw them in silhouette, the camera's sensor in RAW format captured mid-tones darkened to shadow by contrasting light. All that detail is discoverable post processing. 

I just now realized why they call the restaurant ovens salamanders by imagining a chef inserting a platter into one and that being similar to the way the little reptiles slip into rocks. A chef made up the word by doing that all day. I bet.