How to flare up my righteous indignation: Worst restaurant meal EVER.

As a child, I was notoriously considered to be a picky eater.  I was so used to being labeled as such that I didn't think twice about taking the label upon myself.  But you know what?  I was not a picky eater.  I was a refined food critic simply... undiscovered.

I love to eat.  I love to eat lots of different dishes from lots of different cultures.  I am adventurous, Mother.

I don't like overcooked chicken or fish; overcooked veggies; any casserole ever in the whole universe; cheap fats (margarine, lard, shortening); anything cooked with a can or packet of soup added in; and I'm not a big fan of meat.  Pork chops?  NEVER.  Blech.

I love to cook for people mainly because I love to eat and I love to share great things with people.  If I find a great recipe, I want you to try it too.  But I'm too lazy to go through all the trouble to cook just for myself.  The kids have childish palettes and I can't bring myself to force them to eat food they think is disgusting. "You eat that raw tuna! Do you know how long I spent finely mincing that flesh?"  And since I don't want to cook two meals (and I hate to cook in the summer) we've been going to a lot of restaurants, lately.

Last night Jude and I went to a Thai restaurant.  And if it was the last restaurant on Earth, I'd even eat my food storage before eating there again.

First of all, I couldn't help but notice there was no art on any of the bright lime green walls. Come on.  That's weird and you know it.

The music?  There wasn't any.  But there was this horrible sound called Muzak.  You may have heard it before on an elevator.  Or on customer service phone call while you waited for an agent who doesn't speak English, right before you nearly jammed your keys into your aorta for distraction. The only break in the muzak was Aaron Neville. I can't stand his voice.  But he is so Thai.

The waitress, after sitting us gave us our menu and then came back-- and I'm not even exaggerating-- about 40 seconds later to ask if we knew what we were ordering.  Boy, was she optimistic.

So, scoping out the menu....

One of the items on the menu was "Kare-Kare-- Bellies (pata) cooked in peanut sauce with mixed vegetables".  BELLIES? 

"What does this mean when it says 'bellies',", I ask the waitress.

"Pata". 

"Okay, but what's 'pata'?"

"Bellies." (So tempted to ask her who's on first.)

"Whose 'bellies'?"

"Beef."

Okay then.

Jude ordered coconut rice and "Chicken Tinola-- Simmered in ginger broth with pepper leaves and papaya/sayote."  Only $6.99  Smashing good deal.

After remembering the pile of stir-fried veggies I saw on the plate of another guest, I thought a stir-fry sounded like a safe bet.   With confidence, I ordered "Pad Pak Ruom Mit (THAI)-- Mixed vegetables with garlic and your choice of oyster sauce or black bean sauce."  $9.99. 

While we waited, we discussed poop and diarrhea because that's just sparkling conversation.  Somehow this led to a "what's the worst thing you could imagine eating?" conversation.

Jude said that he'd could eat dog if he had to but he'd be holding back the vomit for cat and would not be able to hold it back for rat.  He said that in the Vietnam war prisoners were fed boiled cabbage, rice, and meat of unknown origin, likely rat.  Still, Jude cited boiled cabbage as just the worst thing ever to eat.  He's always going on about how his parents made him eat boiled cabbage as a kid. 

(My worsts are probably brown beans from a can with that gross sauce. Just the smell makes me retch. My mother used to make me eat it as punishment.  True story.  And creamed corn.  Even just typing that made my stomach flip.  When I said the words to Jude, I really almost took him out with a violent hit of projectile vomit.  Creamed canned corn is almost vomit already;  it's already half-way there.  Seriously, I have to stop thinking about it....)

Okay. Now, I ask you to play a game with me.  Let's say you go into a severely under decorated Thai restaurant.  You order mixed stir-fried vegetables.  You didn't think to ask for specifics on the variety of vegetables.  What are you expecting when you think "MIXED vegetables"?

Keep in mind that the "Ginataang Halo-Halo (Mixed Vegetables)" cites "string beans, squash, bitter melon, okra, eggplant".  (Okay, I wasn't expecting the bitter melon. I don't think it stir fries well.)

Mmmhmmm?

Right-- makes sense.

TOTALLY WHAT I WAS THINKING.  Glad we're on the same page.

Great. So, you'll understand my surprise and righteous indignation when I tell you that the waitress brought me STEAMED CABBAGE.  The very meal Jude said would make him vomit over dead rat. (Although steamed is better than over-boiled.)  Who eats cooked cabbage anymore besides really healthy, prudent farm folk and 70-year olds?  In all my life I have never seen "steamed cabbage" on a restaurant menu.  And you know what?  I STILL HAVEN'T.  Know what I have seen?  "Mixed vegetables".

She brought Jude a bowl of soup. 

"Did you order a bowl of soup?" I asked as she set it down.   I didn't even ask about the stupid cabbage because I knew that was a mistake.  "No," he said.

"Um, I think the order is wrong,"  I said.  The waitress went and checked and said it was right.  I guess we weren't expecting soup since the menu didn't say anything about "soup".  Sure, it said that it was simmered in a broth but it could have been removed from the broth.  We figured it was just cooked in an inch of broth for flavour.

I did have a few carrots and a couple of slices of onion.  Does onion count as a vegetable?

Normally, in a chain restaurant, I would have said, "Please take this back.  This was not what the menu said AT ALL.  Please take it off my bill."  But I could tell that I couldn't do that here.  The waitress should have offered right away when she saw that I was surprised and unimpressed.  But she didn't.  Even when I pointed out that the menu said MIXED STIR-FRIED vegetables and I got STEAMED CABBAGE, she said that's what the dish calls for.  "Steamed cabbage and four slices of carrot and two slivers of onion are mixed vegetables.  Sheesh, white lady with the dye job."  Okay, so maybe she didn't say that verbally.

And I thought, How would they like it if I said, "Of course I'm happy to pay you for this meal...  when I give birth to Hillary Clinton getting elected as president."  or "I really have to use the toilet.  And by toilet I meant, THIS CHAIR I'M SITTING IN.  Sorry I wasn't more clear.  You might want to get this steam cleaned."

Geez!  It was the worst case of false advertising I've seen in a while.  I'm glad I didn't order off the dessert menu the "bust enhancing cream"-- it may not have worked!

Jude wasn't thrilled with his food either because when they said "chicken", they meant "drumsticks ripped off a chicken and boiled so the skin is all translucent and fatty". No wonder it was so cheap-- he had to finish the prep work himself!  Oh! And did I mention the quills sticking out of the skin? I think I forgot to mention that.  THERE WERE QUILLS STICKING OUT OF THE SKIN.

And all the while, Jude is trying to say positive things because while he'd normally be critical, this wasn't a chain restaurant; we were in the presence of sweet immigrants. We love Asian immigrants.  They have such an admirable work ethic.  He keeps saying, "I'm sure it's very authentic."  "I think it's just authentic."  "You can say it's authentic."

Well, so was my disgust.

I just sat there and told him to hurry up because I felt very uncomfortable sitting there staring at my food and I already ate my four slices of crunchy carrot so I was out of things to do.  I was done admiring the lime walls.  I considered faking a hemorrhage just to get out of there politely and not have them think that their food sucked.  But that would be dishonest. Plus, I forgot to pack my fake blood.

When it was time to leave, they did not take my food off the bill.  Look.  I know they're a mum 'n' pop place and they immigrated here for a better life and I'm soooo supportive of that.  But it was CABBAGE.  Do you have any idea how much a few slices of cabbage costs?  I think stores actually PAY YOU to take it away. Okay, really, it was only about 50 cents at the most.  Cabbage is dirt cheap and I didn't even get the whole head. 

So, if I got cabbage and Jude got chicken (free quills!), why was mine $10 and his was $7?

This place needs a business manager and I'm happy to step in, free of charge, and show them how to accurately describe food.  Call a spade a spade, a soup a soup and, a cabbage a bitter ball of cheap NON-STIR-FRIED blech.

Driving to Chapter's book store to kill time before the movie Get Smart, Jude repeated a thought I had back when I didn't like sushi:  Now we know why those people are so skinny:  their food sucks.  They probably just don't eat much of it.

Kidding! Kidding.

Comments

[Jude]

Don't you think you over react to beans and corn? That's just succotash, you know.

[Natasha]

First of all, I think succotash has more than just beans and corn in it. And real beans and real corn do not spark my objection. It's the creamed crap to which I object. YOU KNOW THAT.

Secondly, you succotash regularly. (HAHA! I kill me.)

[Sara]

I dont think you and I should plan on cooking together....EVER. Here is a few reasons why:

1) I LOVE canned beans and creamed corn. Love them.
2) I LOVE all casseroles
3) I frequently find recipes that require me adding a can of soup or even a packet of dry soup mix (i.e. yummy spinach dip)
4) I love cabbage - even boiled.

Ironically, I haven't eaten at the aforementioned Thai place in SSM, Mi in months, but I went there on Friday and it was fantastic. I don't want to rub it in, considering how bad your experience was. I brought a friend there who'd never been and she's now in love. The restaurant was closing at 9 and we got there at 8:50, but they stayed open, just for us! She ordered Almond Duck and I had Chicked Pad Thai that was full of peanuts. We got the cabbage soup too and it was good. I swear. I had plenty leftover and I was excited to take it home and eat it on Saturday. However, unknowingly, we each grabbed the wrong take out box from the car. I was longing for my remaining pad thai and was sad to open the duck. My friend called me at almost the exact same time, with the same saddened voice that she had my meal.

Anyway, in conclusion, I do not feel we would be compatible in the kitchen. That being said - I'd happily let you cook for me. I just probably wouldn't reciprocate.

[Sara]

p.s . succotash - good one. hahahah.

[Natasha]

I'd like it if you could snag a recipe from them for me. Something like I described in my post: a noodle dish with veggies and a spicy coconut milk peanut sauce. Also, the placemats had Chinese astrology on them and Jude is a dragon and I'm a monkey. The astrology chart said for him: You will marry a monkey late in life. He was 34 when we married. For Mormons, that's considered "late".

Most people like casseroles. I only know one other person who has the same stance as me.

You could still cook for me. I only mentioned a few things there you couldn't use. But, ya, I'm high maintenance. I'd make a great food critic. I WAS BORN THAT WAY.

[JQ]

Aaron Neville. HATE it when he sings that (or anything). That's a Leonard Cohen song that I realized a few years ago was really an apology/explanation sent across the cosmos from my late, mentally ill father-in-law so I CANNOT listen to the Aaron Neville version.

[Natasha]

Aaron Neville! YES! Hate his voice. And I hate the Leonard Cohen version BECAUSE Aaron sings it and he ruined it for me.

[Robert]

Hmm, I actually like Aaron Neville from a couple of songs, but I can see how his voice would make that scene worse.

We love the Thai place we eat at in Orlando, so much so we're almost scared to eat Thai anywhere else for the reasons you described. There are so many dishes that seem strange that we'd almost be afraid to found out we found the only good Thai food. That said, my wife's oldest sister served a mission in Thailand and loves to cook the "authentic" food - with her own modifications because of availability. She makes something that's pronounced like "Sum tum" that is quite tasty. She also makes Thai sticky rice. My wife loves it so much that we got our own stick-rice cooker. It's a lovely addition to a meal.

I've had some pretty nasty Asian meals over the years, though, so I empathize. The most notable was when my best friend and I decided to try a new Chinese takeout place in college and after one bite into the six egg rolls we ordered I said "You can have the rest of those". His immediate reply was "what's wrong with them?" because he KNOWS I don't surrender my food if it's even passably good. He and I also had a rule after this happened a few times: he was not allowed to suggest a new restaurant. We went to four restaurants in a row at his suggestions and got undercooked food, terrible service, messed up orders, or some combination of those.

[Rusty Southwick]

Natasha, you have a wonderful stream of consciousness, even amidst the blandest of subjects. I think you're providing synchronicity to your readers as you anticipate our thoughts in anticipation of yours. You're pulling off high-degree-of-difficulty dives with utmost precision. It's as if you're subconsciously challenging yourself with blase' topics just to see if you can do it, and you continue to turn the trick beautifully. It's like one of my schoolmates used to say, "Anyone can get good grades doing their homework, but the real trick is to get good grades without doing your homework."

It's as if you need a handicap just to make it fair to all the other bloggers. This is interactive reading at its finest. Never worry about a backdrop for any of your blogposts. What you think about it is so much more interesting than the setting itself anyway. I don't know what makes a good storyteller, but I can tell it when I see it. Some people would die for your panache. You're like the director's cut — the superior version with all the extras. Bravo!

[Rusty Southwick]

Natasha, you have a wonderful stream of consciousness, even amidst the blandest of subjects. I think you're providing synchronicity to your readers as you anticipate our thoughts in anticipation of yours. You're pulling off high-degree-of-difficulty dives with utmost precision. It's as if you're subconsciously challenging yourself with blase' topics just to see if you can do it, and you continue to turn the trick beautifully. It's like one of my schoolmates used to say, "Anyone can get good grades doing their homework, but the real trick is to get good grades without doing your homework."

It's as if you need a handicap just to make it fair to all the other bloggers. This is interactive reading at its finest. Never worry about a backdrop for any of your blogposts. What you think about it is so much more interesting than the setting itself anyway. I don't know what makes a good storyteller, but I can tell it when I see it. Some people would die for your panache. You're like the director's cut — the superior version with all the extras. Bravo!

[Kim!]

Oh, do i have a place to take you! (When you just happen to be hanging around Victoria, lol) I think you will love it because it was the neatest place i've been - pretty much ever. I'll tell you about it one day.

[Deandra]

Great work.