I don’t have the time to write a long post every day because our customer insists on silly little things like contract compliance and support to operations. So, when I don’t have too much time, I’m going to try and write a short blurb on at least one of the meals almost every day. I’ll still be writing the longer posts every few days and you can look forward to future special features on desserts, junk food, KAF signage, and a little bit of branching out into general KAF lifestyle with posts on washrooms, accommodations and fashion. I welcome your suggestions for future topics.
This is the first of such short, pseudo-daily mini-posts.
Having been reasonably impressed with the Monti on our last visit, we went to Independence Hall again as it is pretty much a Monti clone. We all had the brisket, which, you may recall was enjoyed by those who risked it. It was KAF-good verging on KAF-excellent. It was very tender and had a tasty sauce. How it got so tender I don’t know and don’t want to know but it sure didn’t have the cloying MSG taste of the over-tenderized beef at the Far East.
I really love mashed potatoes but haven’t eaten them in KAF for about 2 years because the mashed at the Lux and Cambridge were awful. They were obviously made from dried potato flakes which is not a great start but, jeez, they could’ve at least read the package to find out how much water to add. They were consistently slimy and completely unappealing. Against my better judgement I had the mashed at IH tonight. They were so much better than the ones at the other messes that I commented to J and M that they must be “real” mashed potatoes. They both looked at me with pitying expressions that said “he’s been here too long” and patiently explained that no, they were from instant flakes. I guess my expectations were so low that I was just happy to get instant potatoes made according to the instructions. Thanks for hiring literate cooks IH!
J had bacon and bean soup which was, oddly, completely bereft of bacon. He said he could somewhat “sense” a bacony-ness. He didn’t explain which sense he meant but I believe it was his sense of despair. I don’t like bacon soup. I don’t even like the idea of bacon soup. Sure, I love bacon but the idea of taking perfectly good bacon and sticking it in a pot of water is nauseating. It gets all soft and slimy. Eww. J defended the idea of bacon soup during dinner but he was wrong.
Speaking of J. He revisited his Apollo fetish today as he complained that the Mango tang tasted “funny”. Would one expect Mango Tang to taste “normal”? It’s fucking Mango Tang! “I wouldn’t send astronauts to space with this stuff” he opined. I suggested that had the U.S. done so, the Russians would have beaten them to the moon. J, a little too earnestly, agreed.
Bottom Line
It seems I was too hasty in my judgement of Independence Hall. It may not be suitable for catering the X-prize but it serves up a pretty good meal on the lunar landscape of KAF.
How fascinating to read this. Did you know that writers who are
avoiding writing are commonly known to start eating baconless bacon
soup and chug-a-lugging mango tang. I was just reading about this
phenomenon in The Neurotic Writer Weekly. And further, they start
defending mango tang, extolling its virtues as some space age brain
drink. I mean, Stephen King and Margaret Atwood have both been known
to actually turn mangoie orange when they’ve been avoiding work on a
book, when they’ve been wrought with a sense of writerly despair from
which they try to hide behind a big ass side of bacon, or phantom
bacon as it may be over there. So I’m just sayin…
I am taking the plunge into Mr Box 761 world. If I am not back by Tuesday, send in the troops.