No one really expects the food in a hospital to reach new pinnacles of excellence. Neither do I. As long as the cafeteria is clean, the place is open so I can get something to eat if I happen to be held up for a few minutes and the food is edible and reasonably priced, I ask for little else.
I didn’t design the main hospital in Spittleville. I don’t know why it is located so far from downtown or any decent malls. Wendy’s is a thity minute round-trip walk from the hospital, nothing else is quite so close. So one would expect the cafe to be popular with hospital staff, patients and their families – since they have little choice, and most hospital cafeterias are.
I don’t know the name of the fuckwad who decided that five pm is a good time to close the cafeteria. After all, why encourage people to eat unhealthy cafeteria food when they can easily drive an hour home and eat there? And for people obliged to stay close to the hospital, why not encourage them to work forty hour shifts without being able to eat – after all, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I don’t know who came up with the brilliant proposal to close the cafeteria on weekends, but it makes a great deal of sense. Why not promote health by encouraging people to diet for two days of the week?
I hear the best (or at least most exclusive) restaurants in Los Angeles don’t announce their presence too loudly. Secrecy is good for business. This cafeteria, if it was actually open when people get hungry, lacks exclusive clients and maintains secrecy by not posting their list of specials. Why would the customer need to know what is available or at what price, after all? In reality, they’re better off not knowing, trust me.
Lots of foods that were popular fifty years ago are still loved today. People still enjoy cheeseburgers, milkshakes and fried chicken. Certain foods have disappeared off the gastronomic landscape, too. We don’t often include Jell-o as a salad ingredient these days. It’s unusual to see Chicken a la King or Creamed Chipped Beef served outside of the army, but such foods have a place in the bowels of Spittleville.
Chicken a la King? When was the last time you saw that? It reminds me of an old Calvin Trillin column where he makes fun of the yuppies who consumed this gross but sustaining crap by the bowlful in their country clubs and Jaycee meetings while gleefully singing
We know nothing can beat us
Whatever life may bring
Cuz we can go and eat us
Some Chicken a la King
Our clubs are safe and sound
From those of non-WASP blood
Cuz none of them they would apply
They wouldn’t eat this crud.
You may ask why I don’t bring my own dinners. Well I sure do now! Spam fritters, deep-fried gelatin, applesauce and vinegar, sardines in phyllo… no matter what I make I can’t challenge the supremacy of the inedible fucking sludge served up by the cafeteria above the morgue. May the staff there be justly condemned to eat greasy stale garlic fingers and Ham Chop Suey for the rest of their miserable days, between the hours of 9am and 5pm, Monday to Friday. And unlike us, let them not be able to keep any jewelry or personal effects still left on the food after serving. Bastards.