“I grew up in the suburbs and we didn’t have much money, so for special occasions my parents would take my sister and me to IHOP and let us order specialties, like the Rooty Tooty Fresh ’N Fruity, where they use cherries and a pat of butter to make a face on the pancakes. And see, now they have something called Cupcake Pancakes, with frosting and rainbow sprinkles on top. IHOP is either the best or the worst of America, depending on how snooty and how hungry you are.”

Edgar was inspecting his enormous, laminated menu like an archaeologist coming upon the Rosetta stone.

“They’re offering something called the Harvest Grain Medley, which involves pecans, almonds, whole wheat and whipped cream. They’ve described it as a heart-healthy alternative, yet the calorie count is astronomical.”

“Which is exactly how America deals with organic eating. Go to any Whole Foods and the shelves are bursting with cookies and candy bars, but because the packaging is boring and they use phrases like ‘raw Venezuelan cane sugar,’ we pretend it’s good for you. Americans will give up their guns before they give up sugar, and that’s really saying something.”

“But that’s madness.”

Callum had sworn he was not merely vegan, but that he’d only eat fruits or vegetables that had fallen to the ground naturally, of their own volition, avoiding what he’d called “orchard trauma.” But he’d stash those Halloween packets of Reese’s Pieces in his carry-on and claim that if he ate my Dunkin’ Donuts French Cruller, it didn’t count, because he was saving me from myself. Vegans, like alcoholics, are accomplished liars. As far as I was concerned, the only reason to go to the gym was so I could mainline Ruffles potato chips afterward (the ones where the jumbo bag highlights “Sea Salted,” which is another one of those ways Americans deceive themselves while scarfing delicious crap).

“I think,” said Edgar, as I readied myself for a lecture on kale and toxins and what Callum had called Blood Twinkies, contending they were baked by child laborers, “I think this may well be the finest restaurant in the history of food. Or food-like products.”

I almost passed out, but I gripped the table, because I wanted to remember this milestone, when I’d introduced His Royal Highness to IHOP. If I did nothing else with my life, this wasn’t the worst legacy.