The two DFACs we select for dinner the most often are Luxembourg and Cambridge. They can generally be relied upon to be KAF-OK and reasonably often even achieve KAF-Good. On those nights when the menu is less than appetizing, you know you can always get a decent curry at Cambridge or some tolerable pasta at either of them. I even once managed to cobble together some pseudo-poutine using cheddar cheese from the salad bar. But enough with the accolades.
We’ve eaten at these two DFACS a few times over the past several days and there are a few things I need to get off my chest:
Stop serving us chicken ass.
This isn’t something one should ever have to say but I’m afraid it’s become necessary. What’s “chicken ass” you ask? It is, essentially, the ass of a chicken that somehow makes its way in with the rest of the cut up chicken pieces. It consists of the back half of the back bone and has that nasty little, sorta spade-shaped, bit of fat on the end of it which, if I’m not mistaken is the chicken’s tail. And what is right under a chicken’s tail? Right, it’s ass.
Now, I have to admit that the prevalence of chicken ass has decreased immensely since I first got here. It used to be that I got chicken ass served up to me about every second time I had the chicken way back in the dark ages of ’09. But it’s 2011 people, there’s no need to ever be serving up chicken ass with today’s technology.
Face it, for whatever reason, the Indian cooks at the Cambridge DFAC can’t prepare roast beef. This being an Islamic country surrounded by Islamic countries, maybe the beef is Halaal. I assume that torturing an animal to death does little to improve the tenderness of the meat. Whatever the reason, I need them to stop making it as I can’t seem to stop myself from ordering it.
They should keep making the excellent Yorkshire pudding and KAF-good gravy though! I’m pretty sure the gravy comes out of industrial sized drums so the lack of beef will not affect its quality.
I get that we’re in a war zone and food should not be wasted. I rather like the bread pudding and rice pudding they make with the day(s)-old bread and leftover rice but there is a limit. There is, for example, no such thing as a cheese and pineapple salad. Nuff said.
Despite the occasional chicken ass, inedible roast beef, inappropriately creative salads and unending cricket, Lux and Cambridge remain reliably decent places to eat in KAF. If you’re ever there for Sunday dinner, come over and say hi. I’ll be the guy with the roast beef…
I don’t understand cricket, but I could probably do a fair pass at explaining Quiddich rules to you, if you’re interested.
Too funny!!! Chicken Ass!!! That has to be at the bottom of the food chain!! AAhhh chicken!! so many parts so many dishes!! Why what we call “egg nog” in English is “lait de poulet” in French. “Lait de poulet” translates “milk of chicken”….I would love to see those diary farmers milking a herd of chickens! Chickens…amazing parts of the food chain…have a good day!
RE: Roast beef dinner on Sunday. Would it be possible for them to maybe stone their cattle? That might make make it tender, but on the other hand, I guess if you cook anything long enough, even a prime grade A cut of beef would become like shoe leather.
RE: Chicken asses (any day). Umm, what is the nutritional content? Aren’t you glad the stores in Canada don’t sell those?
ew CHICKEN ASS wtf BTW a fortenight is 2 weeks
So the roast beef dinners we had most Sundays weren’t so
bad after all eh?
So right about the lottery “salads”… A Shindand “fave” of only the cooks was broccoli and salsa (hiding of course whatever else they were throwing in there)… 🙂
I haven’t seen that one, Kimberly but they do seem to think that broccoli mixed with anything = salad
Cricket is quite simple (my father played when I was a child):
You have two sides, one out in the field and one in.
Each man that’s in the side that’s in goes out, and when he’s out he comes in and the next man goes in until he’s out.
When they are all out, the side that’s out comes in and the side that’s been in goes out and tries to get those coming in, out.
Sometimes you get men still in and not out.
When a man goes out to go in, the men who are out try to get him out, and when he is out he goes in and the next man in goes out and goes in.
There are two men called umpires who stay out all the time and they decide when the men who are in are out.
When both sides have been in and all the men have out, and both sides have been out twice after all the men have been in, including those who are not out, that is the end of the game!
Yeah, see? Simple.
Pingback: The blog is dead. Long live the blog. | Box761