Last night was an experience in dining that I simply wish to forget. I took my special friend to a family style Vietnamese restaurant that until now, my family and I have always enjoyed. It was a rainy evening and this place is tucked away off the beaten poser path that is our respective neighborhoods. When the meals came, it took literally two seconds for us both to surmise that it just wasn't on. The soup, as starters tasted like nothing more than salty bath water. When the main meals arrived, his plate looked like it had two dirty insoles laying across a mound of rice. The last straw was when our hostess put mine down in front of me, I think my nose did an actual recoil. It smelled like the noodles had been sauteed in Vim lemon cleaner. You've never witnessed anything quite so objectionable. Well, maybe the scent of the Valerian Root pills I am now taking to calm my nerves. That my friends, smells of ass!
As my special friend put it, if this place had been reviewed by local food critic, Helen Rochester, it would have been shut down!
As a result of our disastrous meal, we left there and headed to a joint, smack in the middle between our two hoods and had the largest, most delicious burgers this city has to offer. It was a dining delight. I am now, as punishment for my heinous choice, not allowed to pick a place to eat for at least one week. Phew!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment