Man, it seems to be taking me longer to kill my taste buds this time in. I’m finding the food to be spectacularly ungood. Others have been more fortunate and have been kind enough to point this out. Here are the lowlights of the last few days.
Today, as usual, we went to the Northline for lunch. It can usually be counted on for decent fare but I made the egregious mistake of trying something new. Yeah, the seafood Newburg looked disgusting and I knew it would be made out of the overcooked baked pollock that was on yesterday’s lunch menu but I just couldn’t bring myself to get what appeared to mechanically deboned turkey roll. Sure, it had shrimp and other bits of things that I assume were once denizens of the deep so there was potential there. Unfortunately, it all tasted just a bit…um…off. I’m sure it was perfectly safe but it seemed to be saying “You shoulda eaten me yesterday”. I tried pairing it with the overcooked spaghetti but two wrongs do not always make a right.
Fortunately, A and L had opted for the turkey so I could at least enjoy a lunch vicariously. According to L, it was ambrosia. A seemed particularly fond of telling me that, although it looked somewhat artificial, it was, in fact, moist and delicious. I doubt it was as good as they claimed as they droned on just a tad too long and too enthusiastically and I believe I detected mischievous glints in their eyes as they watched me stare disconsolately down at my plate of festering marine life. K, who had chosen the eclectic (and somewhat nauseating) mix of stuffing, mac and cheese and mashed potatoes, declared his meal to be excellent in that it all tasted like the taco sauce he’d squeezed over everything. My slop was so distasteful that I looked upon even his plate with envy.
As an aside, we had a very fruitful discussion regarding the names for meals. L, a Brit, had many misconceptions corrected. I’m sure she now agrees that “tea” is a drink and not a meal. That a snack eaten at bedtime is called a “bedtime snack” (duh!) and not supper and that the noon meal is lunch and not dinner. I’m sure she appreciated this lesson in the English language as much as I liked hearing about how good her fucking turkey was.
Last night we went to the Cambridge for dinner and they were serving pot roast. This is not be confused with their standard Sunday dinner…that’s roast beef. Pot roast is completely different in that the beef is overcooked and toughened up in a pot as opposed to being overcooked and toughened up in an oven. The carrots I had with it were pretty good but the fries were mushy. Please french fry guy, heat up the oil before adding the potatoes, will ya? Oh, and A seems to have taken my previous post to heart and opted for water rather than soy beverage.
Ok, just so I don’t look like a whinger, I guess I’d better admit that the breakfasts at the Cambridge are excellent. The omelette king continues to deliver the goods. There is a new guy who takes over when Santos goes on break and he’s doing a pretty good job…but he did break one of my yolks yesterday and I actually have to tell him what my order is. Sigh.
If my posts are beginning to put you off your feed, you oughta check out my lovely wife’s latest post; it’s all about the great food she’s making at home. I’m sure it is all delicious, but I think she’s added a bit too much salt…to my wounds.
“When men are full of envy they disparage everything, whether it be good or bad.”-Tacitus