Saturday afternoon.
I’m getting ready to hit the KC Voices Vol. 9 launch party.
Sa Rah and I are jonesin’ for fish and chips.
“Let’s get back to our fish and chips reviews.”
“Let’s.”
“Fish and chips you can count on?”
“Fox and Hound were good last time we went.” (Which was probably 4-5 years ago.)
What a difference the years can have.
And so it unfolded that at approximately 12:15 PM on 11/12/11, we were served one of the most wretched meals of our lives heretofore.
Our order:
1 Order Pretzel Dunkers
1 Kid’s Pizza (of the pepperoni variety)
1 Kid’s Hot Ham & Cheese Sandwich (for some strange reason named
1 Side Caesar Salad
2 Bowls Beer Cheese Soup
1 Order Fish and Chips
The pretzels arrived. Hot, tasty, and boding well of things to come.
Wrong.
The soup comes. Looks good.
The kids’ food comes. Looks normal.
The salad comes. Standard fare.
The fish and chips come. They look really, really good. Batter a golden brown. A fat chunk and a couple of flat and larger planks. Exciting. (No malt vinegar served but that’s all right. I will ask for some after a few bites without.)
First, the salad: tastes like it looks. Standard. And that’s OK. I don’t expect an inventive or remarkable salad.
Then, a bite of fish: Whoa, sumpin’ ain’t right here. Mushy, gushy, flavorless, limp.
Then Sa Rah takes a similar bite and is like What the fuck is this?
Our waitress comes by and S. tells her something is wrong.
The manager comes by to check it out and assures us the fish is good, etc., but nothing saves the fish. It is not right. I try a few more bites (in various places) to try to give them the benefit of the doubt. No one can fuck up fish and chips this bad, can they? They can. I’m done. I’ve got soup and salad.
The soup: HOLY MOUTH RAPE! It tastes like Cheez Wiz melted with sand and liquid smoke flavoring. I can’t even eat an entire spoonful.
And herein lies a huge issue with being an insulin-dependent diabetic and being served shite food: You must eat. You’ve taken your insulin 30 minutes ago, and it’s already working on your body. You don’t get an option to wait for later. You can order another dish, but why risk being served another plate of foul?
So I notice the kids aren’t really eating anything but fries. Blood sugar dropping, I try the pizza: No. Sauce like mashed tomatoes. I try the hot ham and cheese: bread like buttered cardboard with something like gummi ham in the middle. Again no.
Management (and to their credit, they were kind about our dissatisfaction) gives us a couple free appetizer cards (anyone want ’em?).
We leave.
The kids and I roll to Krispy Kreme for Pumpkin Spice Donuts (I still need sugar, no matter how uninterested I am in eating by this point).
Sa Rah heads to Whole Foods to fill herself with Roasted Brussels Sprouts in an effort to cleanse herself of this violation.
Avoid it. Avoid it like the mf’ing plague.
The only reason the dish gets 3 on our ratings is because the batter itself was good on its own.
But, damn, it ain’t worth it, folks.