I mentioned here the writers group meeting tonight at a local restaurant. (I'm sitting on my hands to keep from putting the sarcastic quotes around restaurant.)
If I had mentioned the name of the restaurant in that post, I wouldn't write this.
But since I didn't...I am spewing forth my venom. I have a headache now, that's how the food affected me, is what I'm saying.
We've met at this restaurant several times before. I've had the salad with chicken, which was good, and the crawfish poboy, which was fine. I've had the gumbo, which was not bad at all.
This time, I ordered the special, which was a choice of an entree, a side dish, salad, and dessert.
I opted for the salad, grilled chicken, pasta "alfredo," (BELIEVE ME, I have full right to use those quotation marks) and white chocolate bread pudding.
On a positive note? The salad with wine and cheese dressing was entirely edible, after I set aside the half of it that was those hard, white pieces of iceberg. (Who eats that stuff??)
You know those pre-grilled chicken strips that come in a bag at the grocery store? That are compacted and taste all processed? I know what they taste like because I occasionally purchase them. There. I said it.(See, I am no gourmet.) They're fine for chicken quesadillas; put enough monterey jack cheese and green onions and it covers up the taste and texture of the chicken.
That's what the grilled chicken was. Somebody in the kitchen grabbed a bag of those abominations from the freezer and threw one in the microwave.
The pasta "alfredo," judging from the taste, texture, and appearance, was sour cream with a spoonful of butter, or rather margarine/oleo swirled into it and tossed with gummy, overcooked spaghetti. The grilled chicken breast was floating in a pool of that wrongness that was congealing on the plate.
Curiously, my plate with the grilled chicken and pasta "alfredo" also had a serving of rice. Did whoever put together that plate think I needed two servings of carbohydrates? Maybe he knew how awful the pasta "alfredo" was and considerately gave me another option.
It was our waitresses third night on the job, if I had to guess, which didn't help matters a whole lot, although I know she can't be held responsible for the kitchen.
Then there was dessert, which she forgot for a very long stretch to bring us: Two folks at our table ordered lemon icebox pie, which I had carefully considered. I love the tartness of creamy lemon filling with sweet crunchy graham cracker crust. (I don't know that they fared any better; their pie appeared to have been on a plate, uncovered, in the back of the refrigerator for a long, long time.) The allure of warm white chocolate bread pudding was strong. I've had stellar bread pudding and I've had mediocre bread pudding. I don't know that I've ever had bad bread pudding before. But I have now!
It was served in a cup brimming with the white chocolate sauce (take note of the restraint I displayed there, what with the lack of sarcastic quotation marks). I detected little - or no - white chocolate flavor, artificial or genuine, in the sauce. You know the plastic container of icing that comes with the refrigerated cinnamon rolls? I think that's what it was. There was a ring of yellow goo collected on the sides of the dish that I suspect was margarine/oleo swirled into the icing before they heated it in the microwave.
My Diet Coke was good, though.