I had been working 15-hour days at my new job. I wanted to show my zeal for the work, and as an added benefit, it kept me out of trouble. What I didn’t realize was that I would be showing that zeal for four months.
A former employee had really put my new company in a pinch, so they needed some help undoing the damage and getting things right. And with my family back in the Cities waiting for months for the house to sell, there certainly wasn’t anybody waiting for me to get home.
A little thing I did to reward myself for the many months of “all work and no play” was to eat well. I drove long and far to find great food, often spending too much. One of my favorites was the Atlantic Salmon at Outback Steakhouse – very tasty. I’ve been a repeat offender there.
One evening, I was rolling down yet another street in search of a new restaurant to experience when I spied a Hollywood video directly across from a Long John Silver’s. I figured I might eat at Long John’s and then grab a rental to take back to work for the evening.
I remembered seeing numerous commercials for Long John Silver’s on the local TV stations. I had never eaten there before, but I knew they claimed to be the place for fish. With the Outback Salmon fresh in my mind as the standard, I pulled into the parking lot.
Bait and Twitch
I entered the restaurant and found that I was the only customer on the premises at the time. This didn’t seem very promising, but traffic was random I imagined. I then realized that this wasn’t a sit-down restaurant with wait staff and menus showcasing fantastic hauls of savory fish from the sea. Instead, it had backlit, fast food style menus mounted up behind the cashier stations.
As I looked at the choices, I was having a hard time deciding what to order. What I didn’t realize initially was that there was a real basis for my indecision. Every solitary item on that menu board was battered, deep-fried and looked exactly the same. Glob after wad after gob of unknown indistinguishable matter, multi-coated in batter and deep-fried in submersible mesh baskets. Thank God they had names next to each item to help customers refer to them with any distinction.
It was then that I noticed the curious demeanor of the young cashier. He seemed surprised that I (or anyone) had wandered in. Actually, all of the employees had that legally-bound countenance. I cannot explain why I didn’t walk out right there.
I decided to order a combo platter in the hope that I might find something I could enjoy. I was keen to order lots of tarter sauce to help cover the taste of what was sure to be battered batter. They took my order and gave me a number. As I turned to locate a seat, I heard the crackling gurgle of my mesh basket descending into the boiling oil vat.
I then discovered that I was NOT the only customer in the restaurant. In the far back corner of the room I noticed a pair of glaring, beady eyes belonging to a man that looked exactly like Black Beard — I swear on whatever turns your crank. He didn’t have a patch over his eye, but his look was rough, his clothes were oddly pirate-like and he had the big, bushy black beard. I took my seat and put my head in my hands, wondering how I had gotten myself into this. I kept one eye on Black Beard.
Sea Monsters
My tray of mystery items was delivered to my table. There were selections shaped like rectangles. Others were shaped like squares. I think I saw a square fish in the movie Nemo. Of course, Nemo was fiction.
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| I had two items shaped like triangles. I’ve never seen anything on the discovery channel about amazing schools of triangle fish. I also had one ball shaped item on my tray. It was about the size of a tennis ball. Everything on the tray met the Noah’s Ark specification, except the ball. It came alone.
At that point, there was no picking what you think will taste best. You just do what preschoolers do — pick your favorite shape and discover the surprise inside. I went with the rectangle, thinking that it was closest to the shape of an actual fish. I dipped it in the tarter sauce and took a bite. It was heavy on the batter and coatings as expected. I really couldn’t taste the fish. It was probably better that way. Who would have thought that tarter was so important to humanity?
I then switched to a square. I again dipped it in the tarter and took a couple bites. It didn’t taste good, but I did actually sense a hint of fish in this one. I dipped it again and took another bite when it hit me — the rectangle which I had just eaten prior was actually chicken.
That was one of the all-time revolting moments in cuisine for me. There’s something so not right about realizing you were eating something other than what you thought, post-swallow. Factor in the smells and sounds and you have the makings of un-eating.
Once roughly 10% of the color in my skin had returned, I looked at my tray and determined that there was nothing left I wanted to try. But there was that ball. I wondered what could be contained in this peculiar sphere. Was it possible that it was actually something good; hence only one was included? It seemed like there was the possibility of it being stuffed with nice crabmeat in a creamy sauce of some kind. I imagined that there had to be one good thing on that tray.
You might be wondering why I didn’t just cut it open and look. I would be wondering the same thing. Having apparently lost all sense, I just went ahead and bit right into it. My reward was my second most revolting moment in cuisine. I had just bitten into a coated ball of mushy bread.
Post Traumatic
Black beard was still sitting in the corner. He seemed entirely satisfied with his meal, with part of it now dangling in his beard.
Bewildered, I simply got up and left. Stepping outside, I looked up at the night sky and took deep breaths to try and put the odors, tastes and sounds of the batter, mush and gurgling behind me. I would have proceeded to another restaurant, but my appetite was completely obliterated.
I proceeded to Hollywood Video to acquire a movie that made no reference to the sea or its contents. My main requirement was that it be shocking and/or terrifying enough to put that revolting meal out of my mind. I had to resort to the Saw horror series to meet that requirement. I watched them all for the first time that night.
“ARRRRRRG!” has taken on a whole new meaning for me. This column is my public service announcement-sacrifice.
If you are ever considering dining at Long John Silver’s, these are the preparatory steps I am recommending:
1) Secure a combination nose clip and double eye patch
2) Know your shapes
3) Pick up a copy of Stomach Pumping for Dummies
4) Sand your taste buds off
That’s my report from the “Big City”.
Brian in the Big City
Employee #0000109
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