An accidental restaurant review

                 It was one of those days that I struggled to get anything on this page. I had a nice piece going about shiny penny syndrome. Half way through that, a call came through from a political party looking to relieve me of some of my money (I resisted). That pretty much ruined that train of thought.

                I suppose I could write a review about the restaurant I had dinner at tonight. It was one of those all you can eat places. I have not been to one of these places in years, largely because they remind me of the Army’s mess halls (they are called dining halls now).  I just had to stop everything so I could sneeze my dang fool head off. Back to the restaurant. It was standard cafeteria food and hardly worth mentioning.  As everybody probably knows, the food in all you can eat places is laid out buffet style and one is expected and encouraged to eat any and everything.  That, my friends, explains why America has an obesity problem.

                Negotiating one’s way through the buffet (read trough) is made easy by the fact that each general selection is identified by a large sign overheard. Names like Healthy Salads, Beef Bonanza, Desert Island, and an unnamed section that contains all the stuff that does not fit anywhere else. It is interesting to note that the desert area is by far the largest of all sections. It is also the one that runs out of stuff most often.  Poor vegetables got the raw end of the deal. They do not have a section of their own. They are left to intermingle among the pork and fish. Seems a might unfair to me but I don’t make the rules.

                I had a salad (actually quite good), a pork chop (eh), mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, and something wrapped in bacon. Once I freed whatever the bacon was surrounding, I discovered that it was a piece of beef (I later learned that they called it a London broil though I fail to see how London could be involved:  or how it would want to be). There is now the question of whether it was any good. Back In the Army, there was a simple test as to the quality of one’s meal. If one’s meal (chow as we called it) went down and stayed there, it was good. It was as simple as that. Using this standard, the meal at the all you can eat place passed the test at least as of this writing some two hours after leaving the restaurant. If I live through the night I will consider the meal to have been a success.

                A word about ambience: there isn’t any unless crying babies and teenagers in a feeding frenzy counts as atmosphere. The place is meant to feed large herds of families and it does so in factory precision. Please note that one is expected to pay when one walks in the door and before a close examination of the evening’s offerings can be made. After they have your money, you are pretty much on your own. If you go, please take one precaution: make sure you do not block a male teenager’s path to any food stands at anytime. Salad is exempt.

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