I hate it when take-out that’s normally fairly reliable (if reliably mediocre) just turns around and takes a dump on dinner.
This evening, the wife and I decided to order some Swiss Chalet. We haven’t ordered from them in quite some time (well over a year at any rate) because the last time we ate their food I became violently ill and had to take the day off work after spending my morning making deposits in the loo from entirely the wrong end of my body. I suspect ptomane or something, but it wasn’t at all nice and it’s the first time I’ve done that since the latter part of the 90s where I got it from eating KFC.
However, we tried again. My taste for Swiss Chalet had waned considerably after that last incident so I decided to opt for something entirely different than what I’d usually order. This time I ordered their new chicken shepherd’s pie with a side of corn, and the wife got an ordinary quarter chicken with mashed potatoes and a cucumber tomato salad. We both ordered their limited-time strawberry cheesecakes, because we’re both cheesecake fiends.
So the meal arrives, and we proceed to become increasingly disappointed in it.
Now, the chicken my wife ordered appeared to be fine, as were the potatoes and chalet sauce, as always – she’s also a chalet sauce fiend. The rest, though? Lemme tell ya.
- The Chicken Sheperd’s pie was only a shepherd’s pie variant in spirit. The layer of mashed potatoes on top had been baked in such a way that it had formed a skin. A thick skin, one that I could have peeled off whole. The filling consisted of chicken chunks, corn, and chalet sauce. Chalet sauce! No gravy. This must be a cardinal sin somewhere. There was also a considerable chunk of ossified gristle hidden amongst the chicken. Yecch. Needless to say, this should have been renamed “quarter chicken leftovers with whatever we could scrape out of last night’s potato tureen. Oh, and we think a few corn kernels.”
- My corn was cold. It vehemently ignored warm butter. Microwaves were made for crap like this.
- My bun was soggy, having half buried itself in the corn, presumably because it needed to cool off. It also was made with no salt and no butter, and for the entire meal they provided exactly one small pat of butter. In a small way I suppose this was a good thing as I had to get out the low fat margarine, which was probably better for me anyway. But still. Soggy bun. Ew.
- Presumably, the tomato cucumber salad had once been coated in dressing. Wherever it went, only the aroma remained in the container. As potpourri, it might have been functional, assuming you wanted a very small area to smell like oregano and vinegar. As a salad however, it was just this side of chowing down on the supermarket’s produce section.
- The cheesecake – I’m still waiting on the forensics to bear out evidence that this was really only a close relative – was probably the most disappointing of all. Without hyperbole, it was about three inches to a side and just north of an inch high. It would have been cute if it wasn’t trying to strut around claiming it was a full serving. The ad made it look quite appetizing – fresh sliced strawberries with raspberry and chocolate coulis drizzled over a much larger-looking slab of vanilla cheesecake. Not being naive enough to expect it to arrive like that, I still had it in my head that it should at least somewhat resemble that. Instead, the chocolate, far from being a coulis, was in fact just their normal chocolate swirl cheesecake. The raspberry coulis, while I am sure it had once taken up residence on top of the cheesecake, had long since run off the cheesecake to seek refuge in the recessed drainage channels that surrounded the plastic container. The ones that render anything in them useless because nothing can fit in there with the intention of sopping it up. But at least there were real sliced strawberries. It should have been served with a miniature fork so as to at least try and give you the impression that you’re eating more than is really there.
So, yeah. Dinner was a bust with a capital “CRAP.”
So how was your dinner? Any tales of woe from the groaning board?