I’d like to take the opportunity to share with my readers about a not so pleasant food adventure. Using my blog to my advantage, I have the platform to promote food I really enjoy and warn you about food experiences that have not been pleasurable. I think that math was probably my worst subject in school, but if I understand the concept of probability correctly, with the amount of food adventures I go on, I’m bound to land on a dud every now and then.
There could be a million (that number might be exaggerated, but again, I’m not good at math) reasons that a food adventure could go wrong. Without making things too complicated, here’s a breakdown of what I deem to be the most common causes of food misadventures.
dirty location
rude staff
gross food
obnoxious fellow customers
a long wait
Though, witnessing one of these issues may ruin your entire outing, a combination of them is almost a guarantee that you will have a shitty experience. And if having an “almost guarantee” is not what you are looking for, then I recommend going for the “two-for-one special.” The twofer is when you decide to leave the current food adventure you are on due to the miserable situation and embark on a new food adventure that is either equal to or worse than the first.
This past Wednesday, October 14, 2015 was one of those lucky days where I got to participate in a twofer for dinner. I had been famished, to the point where I felt like my stomach was beginning to cave into itself so that it could begin eating its own tissue and lining in order for me to continue to be alive. The plan was to have dinner with my parents and brother at Hillstone in midtown. We were told it would be a 35 minute wait for a table, which is a pain in the ass, but a doable amount of time. Plus, since I eat so many cookies, I figured it would take my stomach a while to eat through the layers of fat before I passed out from starvation.
Let the record show, patience does not appear to be a common genetic trait along the Stahl side of the family. Blessed as we are, my brother and I inherited, or I should say didn’t inherit the patience gene. My brother was starting to get all “I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down” about the wait time and I was selecting engravement fonts for my tombstone, “here lies Jamie… all she wanted was a cheeseburger.”
Eventually my brother couldn’t wait any longer and decided to go home for dinner. I, on the other hand stayed because Hillstone makes the best baked potatoes. 52 minutes after putting our name down on the list, we were still waiting to be seated and apparently there were three tables ahead of us. I believe there was a collaborative “Fuck it” that occurred as we decided to walk out of the restaurant. Although I could see the Grim Reaper licking an ice cream cone out of the corner of my eye, I persevered and walked the few blocks back to the car. We looped around the block and decided the best move was to grab something to eat in a diner.
Of course I was disappointed that I couldn’t get my yummy baked potato, but I figured diner grilled cheese and french fries was always amazing so there was a silver lining somewhere. It turned out to be a grey lining. My dad made friends with a small fly that was walking across our table. I went deaf in my left ear because of these two assholes that wouldn’t stop talking in the booth next to us. All of our food was gross. Like borderline inedible. I have to tell you, I was very impressed with this place for making such a terrible grilled cheese sandwich. It’s pretty hard to mess up grilled cheese, but they did an excellent job. Congrats!
On the bright side, I got another crazy food adventure story out of it. I also decided that I will be going to the Hillstone on Park Ave from now on and am planning to keep my distance from diners in the East 50s for a while. Another positive is that my stomach didn’t actually end up eating itself. Though, that might have tasted better than my grilled cheese. You know, I had such a lovely evening with the whole family.
I’d like to take the opportunity to share with my readers about a not so pleasant food adventure. Using my blog to my advantage, I have the platform to promote food I really enjoy and warn you about food experiences that have not been pleasurable. I think that math was probably my worst subject in school, but if I understand the concept of probability correctly, with the amount of food adventures I go on, I’m bound to land on a dud every now and then.
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