So I’m taking a mental health day today. The sun is shining, the snow is rapidly melting, and I’m exhausted from the week’s events at work.
I dropped my wife at the airport early this morning for her biweekly trip to Fairbanks (lucky girl) and thought that I would treat myself to a helping of biscuits and gravy at a local cafe.
I pulled up in front of the place and noted that the name had changed, which probably means new ownership, but I figured the cook probably stuck around. The menu appeared to be pretty much the same, although the prices had gone up some, and B&G was still available. There were only two of us in the joint, and the waitress seemed to be more interested in talking to the guy at the counter than coming to take my order, but I finally caught her eye. She sauntered over with a coffee pot and mug, and I gave her my order before she could escape back to what was surely a scintillating discussion on the Socratic method.
I realized there was no milk on the table, so after futile attempts to get her attention from 15 feet away, I got up and walked over to her to ask for some. “Some what?” “Milk – you know, for the coffee?” I add some milk and sweetener and take a sip, and have an instant realization of what those poor soles who were required to drink Drano felt like.
So the food arrives, and I know it’s not going to be a taste treat. The biscuit is small and the gravy is just kind of sitting resentfully on top with a congealed look on its face. I cut into the biscuit, which has apparently been propping open a door somewhere, and slog it through the gravy and take a taste. The consistency was. . .interesting. Sort of a rubber cement mixed with Elmer’s glue kinda thing. Salt and pepper just made it saltier with black flecks in it. Ovbiously, this mess was just milk thickened with flour, since there was not even a hint of sausage in it.
I managed to gag down a bit of it, but gave up quickly. I guess I should have complained, but what good would it have done? So I took the passive-aggressive way out and left a tiny tip. The waitress was still discussing evolution versus creationism with the truck driver at the counter when I left.
On the bright side, the rest of this day can only be uphill.
…we could plan cholesteralfest '10…I’m in Illinois so i could bring up a 1/2 of a corn fed hog…