The taste of evil

I tasted evil tonight. Pure, stringy, slimy, hairy, horrifying evil. 

After being stranded in our apartment for about a week, we finally decided to bust out of the joint. No fancy plans, we didn't really care what we did, it just had to be not here. Or at least I thought I didn't care. Really, people only say they don't care what happens when they assume something good or at least something ok is going to happen.

Most of the day was fine, just wandering around oohing and awwwing at various pieces of overpriced cookware, because we are boring marrieds whose dreams now involve shiny suburban kitchens. Mostly, we were just killing time before going to dinner.

I was so excited to eat out. First of all, food cooked by someone other than me is always a delight. Secondly, we were going out for Mexican food, which I love and can never seem to cook right, probably because I avoid lard and other deliciousness. Thirdly, we were using a certificate from restaurant.com, so I got to feel all frugal and smart. The restaurant itself wasn't fancy, just your basic hole in wall, but it was next to our favorite Thai place, so I was pretty optomistic.

Our  first clue that this was a den of evil should have been that it was only 10 degrees warmer in the restaurant than it was outside (contrary to popular belief, I'm sure that hell is a frozen wasteland. I abhor the cold, as do all decent people). Frankly, I think the only reason it managed to be that warm was that the walls blocked out some of the wind. Even after keeping my winter coat on, my teeth were still chattering. By the time I left, my toes were starting to go numb. Still, there was food on the premises, and I've done worse things than be a little chilly for food before.*

One of the catches was that for our $25 certificate, we had to spend $35, which is enough for some appetizers as well as the main meal. This requirement for appetizers would turn out to be a tender mercy. The appetizers were solidly ok. Really, its hard to screw up a quesidilla. A little bland, but decent. I can only assume that this was meant to lull is into complacency.

It took a while for our food to get to us, and when it did my fajitas were covered in a thick haze of smoke. Once it cleared, I was greeted by a plate full of sad little vegetables, various meats, and something that may have been a shrimp, only it had little wriggly hairs sticking out of it. I have no idea how crustaceans could manage to grow hair, but these demon shrimp had somehow found a way. After I got over the cousin it shrimp, I remembered that hair or no, I wasn't supposed to have any shrimp or shrimp like creatures on my fajitas, I had asked for just basic steak fajitas. Generally I don't like to complain at restaurants, mostly because I believe in being nice to people who have control over what enters my mouth, but I do expect to have a minimum standard of getting what I ordered. 

 They pretty much told me I was lying. First they claimed that I had ordered the expensive steak, chicken and shrimp fajitas. When I assured them that I hadn't they told me that there was no such thing as just steak fajitas on their menu, it always came with chicken and shrimp. I checked, and no, right above the expensive fajitas was the basic steak fajitas that I had ordered.

Eventually, they sort of offered to fix my meal, but by then I had tasted a bite of my food and learned that there was nothing any human being could possibly do, so I decided to stop fighting. The steak they had served me was tough, stringy and a little burned. It didn't have a discernible meat like flavor, just a sickly red glaze that sort of tasted sweet and tangy like spoiled milk. Not everything tasted bad, the onions and peppers were devoid of any flavor, they just sat there in a slimy, bland ooze. I didn't have the courage to try one of the shrimp. I tried to eat a little more, but I finally decided that trying to force more down my throat would just kick in my gag reflux, and throwing up seemed ruder than not eating my food.

Zach's enchiladas were what he had ordered, but that was about their only redeeming quality. They looked like they had come out of a can, but he assures me that no company of any repute would be willing to can and sell such vile excrement. We tried really hard to eat our food, but we're only so strong. I should point out that Zach has served an LDS mission, where he was frequently fed by the members. This was usually a good thing, but at least once he was served fajitas made with chicken that had been microwaved, and was still kind of raw in the center. He was able to eat the raw fajitas, but even he couldn't stomach that enchilada. 

Mostly, we just sat there, pushing our food around and trying to make it look like we had eaten some of it. Occasionally new people would walk into the restaurant. I would try to warn them away with my eyes, but I'm afraid I wasn't successful.

It took them about half an hour to finally bring us the bill and set us free. I generally try to be a good tipper, so I usually leave about 20% of the bill (the full bill, not the amount after discount). I just couldn't physically do it this time, I felt horrible enough about having to pay for whatever that stuff on the plate was supposed to be. So I spitefully left only left 15%. I hope they learned their lesson.I would hope that they would eventually close down and be replaced with something decent, but clearly they have made a pact with Satan to serve the products of evil in the masquerade of food, so I'm not getting my hopes up.

*Such worse things include dates with really awkward and creepy guys and a host of even awkwarder and creepier singles ward activities. I've sat through some pretty bad things for the sake of a stale cookie. College students are so easy to buy.