(Illustration by Eric Shansby)

Most people seem to think that the proprietors of the Red Hen restaurant were wrong last month to refuse to serve dinner to presidential press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders. The question remains: Given their antipathy to the Trump administration, what should they have done? With a little help from my friends, I present some suggestions.

Serve Sanders a plate that has only a sprig of parsley, a pea and a chicken beak, and when she complains about the portion size, insist it’s the largest amount of food ever served anywhere to anyone.

Station an attendant who insists on checking gender identity before allowing any members of her party to use the restroom. The attendant will be pulling on rubber gloves.

Present each item of food while announcing, “This has not been spat into. The idea that it has saliva in it is ridiculous and frankly insulting.”

Serve her table blinis, borscht and vodka, announcing loudly that they’re “with the compliments of Vladimir.”

Instead of the usual light classical music or pop radio, play the “orchestra” of immigrant children crying for their mothers.

When she orders cheesecake for dessert, refuse to put the order in until the chef’s shift ends. Then change the order to fruitcake.

Tell her you’re trying to find someone to prepare and serve her food whose family came here without any chain migration or illegal immigrants. Consult watch. Say, “It could take a while.”

Comp her a cheese platter, then report her to the feds for an ethical violation in accepting the gift of a free cheese platter.

Put a $130,000 “hush money” fee on the tab to buy your silence about something she didn’t do, because that’s how it works, apparently.

No matter what she orders, serve a wedding cake that says “Congratulations Wally and George.” Two little grooms atop.

Hire Charlottesville neo-Nazis to “watch” her car and say it will be okay because they are “fine people.”

No matter what she orders, respond, “That’s a ridiculous order. I won’t dignify it with a response.” Then call on the next person.

Take her kids to the kitchen for the “kids table” and never mention them, or produce them, again. At the end of the meal, promise to try to locate them with “all deliberate speed.”

If she finds something wrong with her order, blame the previous chef, who no longer works there.

Serve her the plastic food in the window display and insist it is real.

Have the kitchen staff go up one after the other and say they are big fans of Bernie, then ask her if she’s related to him, and walk away crestfallen at her reply.

“Sorry, we’re all out of everything but crow. Care to eat some?”

Thanks to Robert Schechter, Rachel Manteuffel, Arthur Adams, Thor Rudebeck, Mark Raffman, Timothy A. Livengood, Leah Pollack Epshteyn, Bruce Alter, Randy Lee, Alex Blackwood.

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