Welcome to my $6 lunch. I got this in the hospital cafeteria today and took the picture with my camera phone. Although the name of the dish might lead you to believe that I work in some kind of foodie heaven I have long since learned that the names of the dishes rarely correspond to the flavors. The names seem to be just that, names. These are curious names, really, mango is fine, but habanero is poor marketing, especially if you aren't even going to cook with it. In this part of the country the red bell pepper is considered spicy, (that is not an exaggeration, but I do hope that your reaction is something like, "I refuse to believe that any sector of humanity has reduced itself to such fecklessness of flavor without tasting the evidence with my own tongue," because, you see, I have an undying faith in the ability of humanity to be positive when faced with an epicurean foe such as a public which prefers bland, tasteless food) and basically steered everyone in front of me towards a hamburger. I still ordered the chicken because they always grill well, and the skin looked perfect. So even if there was a mango and a habanero in the same room as the grill and that's where they got the name, it'll still be good cafeteria food.
I knew the ball was rolling my way today when I ordered the chicken and he asked me "white or dark" as he laid his left hand on some white meat. As you know, white meat is "healthier". He had apparently - subconsciously, of course - determined that I was decidedly healthy looking and for sure got they way by eating chicken breast! A subconscious compliment, I'll take them where I can get them. Imagine the surprise, the chaos, the utter calamity in his id when I decadently and confidently ordered "dark". Of course, if all you saw was the look on his face you would think that he was barely aware of my existence, but his subconscious certainly mulled it over for the better part of a day.
Imagine my dismay when, as I was practically drooling over the stainless-steel food bin of steamed carrots and green beans that for once didn't look overcooked, he asked if I wanted vegetables or salad, and proceeded to quietly lay his left hand on the salad tongs. Again, not one to lose hope in the flavor of food so quickly I craned my neck to see if they had invented a new salad, maybe with mâche, tarragon, sliced beets, Dijon mustard, white wine vinegar, and some olive oil, and thickened with a raw egg yolk, but no, that must have been a dream I had online, for the only thing in the stainless steel salad bin was iceberg lettuce. So there I was, moments after receiving a subconscious compliment I learned that the other half of his id thought that I was a pansy! Iceberg lettuce is for pansies! I immediately asked for the vegetables but I don't know if he understood, I probably should have beat him up just to prove a point to his subconscious, but without having had lunch first I probably would have lost, and if I went back later his subconscious wouldn't make the connection. So I left him there, id in a swirl, looking for another healthy pansy to feed.
The lunch was well worth $6, the chicken was no more spicy than a red bell pepper, there was some sweetness, maybe not mango, but still good. The carrots and green beans were fine, although the green beans were a little overdone. The cumin-rice, however, tasted like they dumped raw cumin over the rice after it was done. That's not the only thing keeping the place from earning a Michelin Star, however, and for $6 I shouldn't complain, but still do.
Tomorrow I'll wear a power tie, and maybe they'll guess my order right.
I knew the ball was rolling my way today when I ordered the chicken and he asked me "white or dark" as he laid his left hand on some white meat. As you know, white meat is "healthier". He had apparently - subconsciously, of course - determined that I was decidedly healthy looking and for sure got they way by eating chicken breast! A subconscious compliment, I'll take them where I can get them. Imagine the surprise, the chaos, the utter calamity in his id when I decadently and confidently ordered "dark". Of course, if all you saw was the look on his face you would think that he was barely aware of my existence, but his subconscious certainly mulled it over for the better part of a day.
Imagine my dismay when, as I was practically drooling over the stainless-steel food bin of steamed carrots and green beans that for once didn't look overcooked, he asked if I wanted vegetables or salad, and proceeded to quietly lay his left hand on the salad tongs. Again, not one to lose hope in the flavor of food so quickly I craned my neck to see if they had invented a new salad, maybe with mâche, tarragon, sliced beets, Dijon mustard, white wine vinegar, and some olive oil, and thickened with a raw egg yolk, but no, that must have been a dream I had online, for the only thing in the stainless steel salad bin was iceberg lettuce. So there I was, moments after receiving a subconscious compliment I learned that the other half of his id thought that I was a pansy! Iceberg lettuce is for pansies! I immediately asked for the vegetables but I don't know if he understood, I probably should have beat him up just to prove a point to his subconscious, but without having had lunch first I probably would have lost, and if I went back later his subconscious wouldn't make the connection. So I left him there, id in a swirl, looking for another healthy pansy to feed.
The lunch was well worth $6, the chicken was no more spicy than a red bell pepper, there was some sweetness, maybe not mango, but still good. The carrots and green beans were fine, although the green beans were a little overdone. The cumin-rice, however, tasted like they dumped raw cumin over the rice after it was done. That's not the only thing keeping the place from earning a Michelin Star, however, and for $6 I shouldn't complain, but still do.
Tomorrow I'll wear a power tie, and maybe they'll guess my order right.
2 comments:
Hey man, there is actually no salad that is more masculine than a wedge of Iceberg lettuce with blue cheese dressing. I'm serious.
Also, I'd love to know which tie you consider your "power tie".
A tie with the incredible hulk on it, of course.
Compared to the rotunda the hospital cafeteria is foodie heaven. I had the same thing, but with the corn bean pepper salad. I thought it was the best food I have eaten in the health science complex in quite some time.
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