I am suggesting a new topic - stories about unusual eating incidents. Here's mine:
Felix and I were having lunch in a restaurant. It was crowded, so we had taken two seats at the counter. We ordered our food, and it was soon served to us. Mine was something that had spinach in it.
As I was eating, I stuck my fork down and somehow part of what I was cutting into disappeared. I didn't know what had happened until I heard a customer 3 stools down complaining loudly to the man behind the counter that he had been given a fork that had spinach on it. I calmly went on eating, not wanting to stick my nose into other people's business.
What's your story?
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22 comments:
Two words: Lentil Loaf
For those of you not fortunate enough to have had this experience, I hasten to explain. When I was shifting over into trying vegetarian dishes, the family had the opportunity to try a variety of new taste sensations. Lentil Loaf was not among them. Even I had to admit it was nothing near what meat loaf tasted like. As a matter of fact, it tasted simply like nothing. I tried slicing it up and frying it. No help. Nothing. I actually threw it away!
Does that match your memory, Uncle Matt?
Exquisitely. You could say the meal was a non-issue.
I remember just a couple of weeks after Stacy was born, Bev, Michael and I went out to Cattlemen's Steak House in Petaluma. We were mid-meal, and I had Stacy in my lap. At the time, if you were drinking water they would just bring a pitcher and leave it at your table. And that's what the waitress had just done. With the skill of Buster Keaton, Bev managed to (accidentally) nudge the pitcher so it tipped over and dumped a half gallon of ice and water right into my lap. I couldn't jump up, because I didn't want to lose control of the baby. So there I sat, patiently enduring the sub zero chilling of my underwear and everything inside them. Once the shock was over and I could act without panic, I did manage to stand up and get the baby back into the carrier. But by that time, the pitcher was empty.
Even right then it was pretty darn funny. Bev was embarrassed, but managed to start giggling anyway, and I wasn't far behind. I moved to another chair, put my coat in my lap and finished my dinner. Because if you've ever had a Cattlemen's steak dinner, you know it's worth it.
Ok I am not sure this will be a funn story in the re-telling, but since there have been some Czech stories I thought I might add one.
My family was visiting the Czech Republic a few summers ago, and we went out to a nice dinner in a quiet little place in a small town in Czech Republic. No, normally we have the luxury of having Aunt Licy join us, and so therfor we had a trasnlator to tell us what to order. For some reason I think we forgot her back at the hotel for this meal. Anyway. The poor waitress had spent the duration of our meal patiently sounding out every item on the menu to us, and doing her very best to try to describe the items in broken English. By the time dessert rolled around, we were trying to say some of the choices ourselves, so the nice waitress very slowly sounded out each syllable of these exotic sounding desserts. We thought we were such suave travelers, until Peter pointed out that it was probably sounding so dumb to our waitress.
"You know, he says, imagine if someone asked us to do this at home. It would be like saying ap-ple p-ie over and over again."
We all started laughing at the idea that here we were, struggling to say this excting new words, that probably meant litte more than ap-ple p-ie to this poor waitress!
Given a choice, I think I would rather look like a fool in a Czech restaurant than have a chilling reception at Cattlemen's. Besides, look how smart you made the waitress feel!
EES, your Czech story reminded me of a time my buddy "Ski" and I were in this fast food joint. It was late in the lunch rush, but there were still some lines at the counter and this one poor Spanish-speaking fellow was trying to order some lunch. He didn't have a word of English to offer, and the guy behind the counter couldn't figure out how to help him.
So here's this crowd of a dozen or more people. We're not getting anxious, but we're all just standing there waiting for these two people to resolve their problem. Ski walks up to the front of the line, taps the Hispanic guy on the shoulder, then walks over to the edge of the counter where they have the big cardboard "order one of these new meals" displays. He stands next to the display and turns it a little so the Hispanic guy can see it clearly. The Hispanic guy points at one of the meals, Ski says "He wants the Chicken Parmesan combo" and quietly walks back to our place in line.
It has stuck with me for all these years that so many of us were content to just stand there and watch this situation stay a problem. Fortunately there was one person in our crowd who was willing to step it up a notch and say to himself "surely this can be solved" and then of course actually do something about it. Ski made the difference between this guy getting his lunch or going away hungry and frustrated. And it was really no effort at all.
I can't forget this little scenario, and it keeps me watchful, when I'm in public, for times where I can be the stranger who walks up and does one little thing to alleviate someone else's problem.
Okay, that's my sermon for today. Please don't forget to drop your envelopes in the collection box on the way out, remember the clothing drive starts next weekend, and we're still looking for people to help with the three- and four-year-olds. See you next week.
You had a friend named Ski? Hippie.
Are you sure it wasn't Skye?
Seriously, I thought your story was great, Uncle Matt. I wrote this comment before, but it doesn't seem to have been filed - maybe I didn't press the right button. Anyway, a minister once said that International Mission groups always tried to have an American on their committees, because Americans are problem solvers. They seem to believe that something can be done. Maybe that should be one twelfth of Americans. Thanks for your story.
Western sage,
Thank for being a leader to start up a new topic . I think, this is a very good idea. I hope the Kulka blog is not dying down, it might be the difference of each person's interests.
So far, I have no funny stories, but I have some funny idea what most Thai people (who live in Thailand) think about American food.
1.We think that the main American foods are Pizza and Hamburger. The most popular American franchise foods in Thailand are Pizza Hut and McDonald. If my friends and I say " today we will go to eat American food", that means we are going to have either Pizza hut or Mcdonald.
2.We believe American food has no taste. We compare the taste of American food to boiled rice with a lot of water (rice congee), or the water that was left from washing dishes. I understand you might say back to us "why do you guys continue eating spicy food? After you eat, you suffer in many parts of your body, including the last part in the morning."
3. We like to mock your food, saying that each serving of your food could serve every person in a small village, especially the quantity of meat of each serving. We could cut that meat and use it in many meals, plus sharing it with our neighbors.
That's all I can think of. Myself, I really love American salad. I think it is a very smart way to eat vegetable and keep most of the nutrition that would be lost from cooking.
Are you listening carefully, young people? SALADS ARE GOOD FOR YOU.
Why do you have to call out the youngins, grandma? I love salad; it happens to be my favorite food.
Speaking of odd dining stories, my mother claims that as a child, I would devour copious amounts of salad at Olive Garden and nothing else. She still likes to tell this story to the waiter when we go to that restaurant. Sure, tell the cute waiter how I used to be a complete pig. Thanks, mom.
Well, I didn't know we had a salad-eating pig in the family. I apologize.
The only thing close to an interesting dining incident would be the time I ran naked through a Mcdonalds...quite exhilarating.
You are right. That IS close. How old were you at the time?
College age. Memories tend streak by in that point of my life.
Are you sure you don't know what imbibing means?
I'm pretty sure he does :) although, I think when I heard the story he was high-school aged...but I'm probably just remembering wrong
Well, we could just ask Mcee D's.
Why, do they have it on tape?
Wow. Steer clear of the deep fryer when you do that. Those things spatter.
Nice advise Uncle Matt. Coming from personal experience perhaps?
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