We’ve had several good DFAC meals in a row this week. What the hell is going on? I keep expecting to run into Spock with a beard.
Last night at the Monti, I had some roast chicken. It was really nicely done, not dry at all. The iced tea actually tasted like tea. It wasn’t that peach shit nor was it a sugary monstrosity like the Northline usually has. D, J and I all enjoyed our meals. But it gets weirder.
D, K and I were at the Northline for lunch today. There was both baked and fried trout available so I hedged my bets by getting a piece of each. I was a little put out because there were lime rather than lemon wedges on the salad bar. D thought my very vocal rant about lemons versus limes was a little excessive. He was wrong. It was, however, probably the best fish I’ve had in KAF. D and K both said the roast beef was exceptionally tasty and tender too. What the hell?
Then it was off to the Monti for dinner again. J insists he hates the Monti but always says his meals are good when we’re there. D says “he’s just being miserable”. J doesn’t dispute this and seems to take some sort of pride in his contrariness. I can relate to that. Anyway, D had a pork chop which he described as “a little overcooked but not repulsive and saw dust dry like usual” while the cauliflower was “not mushy”.
I saw a big line up at the short order bar and, while I’m usually too impatient to queue, the Buffalo chicken wings looked perfect. I stood in line as the drones moved like Steve Austin using his bionic powers but I eventually made it to the penultimate position…and the wings were gone. I asked the DFAC dude if they were getting more wings, he smiled. I asked again, he pointed vaguely towards the kitchen. After about 5 minutes, the Indian guy in line behind me looked pointedly at me, gestured towards the kitchen and angrily exclaimed “How he know they need more wings?”
Not satisfied with my answer, which consisted of silence accompanied by an expression of both perplexity and overwhelming apathy, he stormed off. DFAC dude then disappeared into the kitchen area only to return empty handed about a minute later. I asked him “How long for the wings?” He made a gesture that looked for all the world like he was flipping a mud pie with one hand. I think it meant “I’d rather be flipping mud pies with one hand, so fuck off, loud mouth Canadian asshole”. Eventually, the wings did show up and they were well worth the wait. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a DFAC prepare wings properly. The entire batch was crispy outside and moist inside. The dry rub on them wasn’t the greatest but I’ve had worse wings in bars back home.
This all kind of begs the question: “Why don’t you cook like this all the time, DFAC people?” Now that we know what you’re capable of, we’ll be expecting great things from now on…and probably end up disappointed.
Odds and Ends
Also at lunch today, K made a rather puzzling discovery on his milk carton. It proudly proclaims on the front “FROM COWS NOT TREATED WITH rbST“. “Wow,” you’d think, “I’m so glad! That rbST shit must be nasty!” However, on the back it proclaims, with what I presume is slightly less enthusiasm given the lack of caps lock, “No significant difference has been shown between milk derived from rbST treated and non-rbST treated cows“. My concern is there is nothing on there to tell me if the cows were milked on a Tuesday or not. Sure, it might not make a difference, but shouldn’t they tell me anyway?
On our way to the Monti tonight, BFBS radio was playing Adele’s “Someone Like You”. I mentioned “They just played this song yesterday. You’d think there are enough songs available that they don’t have to play the same stuff everyday”. J immediately reached over and shut off the radio. “Hey, it’s still a good song…all I’m saying…” I began when D piped up from the backseat “I’m not really sure what the hell she’s whining about”. He had a point. It kinda put me off the song.
A military engineer had briefed us on a smallish project impacting some of our equipment. He planned to have it all done in one day. I told him, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, that “I’ve been here a long time and just be warned, everything in KAF, except bowel movements, takes three times as long you expect.” D and I found his response of “You worry about doing your job and I’ll worry about doing mine” as somewhat condescending but being the good contractors that we are, we bit our tongues and thought about our bank accounts. Of course, privately we agreed that it would be great if the job took 2 or 3 days…we’re petty like that. Well, the project went ahead today and they finished about 3 hours early. Fuck! I asked D, who spent some time down at the work site if the engineer had gloated. “No, but he kept trying to make eye contact with me. I wouldn’t let him”. I think we handled this potential conflict quite maturely all around.
I could learn to tolerate this alternate universe…
“There’s something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear” – Steven Stills
“Random chance seems to have operated in our favor” – Spock