And especially not at the Dairy Queen on Sherbrooke Street in Montreal near Vendome metro.
Ok. In order to survive, I have gone and gotten a job at the local Dairy Queen. I’ve been working there for about a week now.
One of the desserts we are required to prepare is called a Pecan Mudslide. I have decided this recipe is the product of Satan’s own alchemy.
You take a tulip glass and put in hot fudge, caramel, and pecans. Then you pull soft vanilla ice cream into it. You need to get the exact mass, height, circumference, and angle in the soft ice cream, which is not easy when the machine spits at you, the ice cream is floating on fudge hot enough to melt it, and you have no depth perception. If you don’t do this right, James (the cashier) snaps at you. You then must pour more hot fudge, more caramel, and more pecans onto it, praying that it’s not going to cant over under the mass and heat of the fudge and other toppings.
I don’t think I’ve really captured how difficult this dessert is to prepare properly.
I am not the best person in the world at making Pecan Mudslides. I accept this about myself, and I’m at ease with this fact. So the next time James asks me to prepare one, when there are two or three other people hanging around who are probably a lot better than me at it, I’ll be at peace. I’ll just go in and do my best, not worry about what others think of me, and just make as good a Mudslide as I can. I’ll serve it to the customer, and then I will give James a nice happy smile, and then I will murder him.
The next time you’re in a DQ, please, please order something easy, like a Blizzard. You can get them in a million different flavours and they can be combined however you like. I recommend the mint-Oreo and the raspberry-blueberry. They’re scrumptious.
But think of the poor clerk, slaving away for minimum wage.
Avoid the unnecessary slaughter of snotty cashiers.
Don’t order Pecan Mudslides.
Thank you.