I knew it was too good to last. J, M, D and I tempted fate and went to Monti for the third dinner in a row last night. Third time’s the charm…my ass.
Unbeknownst to us, it was steak and lobster night. The line ups were huge, much to D’s chagrin as he has only a few days left til his leave and he’s vowed to not wait in line for anything again unless it’s a beer in Dubai. I guess steak and lobster have a bit of caché in the real world but, as you may recall, they kinda suck here. So we all went for the shortest lines we could find. I ended up with strips of sliced inner tube in a BBQ sauce that was inexplicably labeled “Italian Beef”. D had the infamous “Pork Patty” which he declared was the best thing on his plate because it had some flavour, albeit, that flavour was salt. M grabbed a scoop of pudding for dessert only to find that it was 100% pudding scab. Overall, it was kinda bad and not in a good way. M declared that we had “flown a little too close to the sun” by expecting Monti to feed us well three days in row.
So, we went to the Cambridge tonight. The menu promised “Roast Pork with Apple Sauce”. I love having apple sauce with my pork but it just looked like bits of pineapple had been baked with it. Taking my seat, I muttered dejectedly “that looks like goddamn pineapple”. M, always looking at the fucking bright side, pointed out that pineapple is a kind of apple. Thanks, that helps. It ended up being irrelevant anyway because whatever was on the damn pork was untasteable.
Dessert was a little better. The shortbread cookies were delish as usual while the custard-filled chocolate thingy (I didn’t read the sign) got mixed reviews. J really couldn’t comment on the desserts. Not because of his rigourous low-carb diet but because his four desserts were, in J’s inimitable style, heaped into a disgusting melange such that their individual tastes were indistinguishable while mine and M’s were offended. M found the thingy a little dry and
declared that it was the worst part of his meal even though it wasn’t filled with lard as he had initially feared. I thought it was ok once you got to the 25% that actually had custard in it. Prior to our initial bites, we had a very cerebral discussion regarding whether the custard might be the scab scraped off of the vat o’ custard after it sits overnight and how that may be harvested and subsequently inserted into the thingy. The nausea centre of my brain was relieved to find it was simply filled with custard while the tiny blogging part of my brain was somewhat disappointed.
While I had initially hoped that fellow KAF inmates could use this blog to decide which DFAC to frequent, it turns out that the Uncertainty Principle doesn’t just apply to KAF road closures, speed limits and boardwalk shop opening times but to DFAC food as well. “Schrodinger’s plat” du jour.
“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I don’t know the answer.”- Douglas Adams