There’s a first time for everything

And today’s first time was sending food back to the kitchen.

Honestly if my uncle hadn’t have said something, it would have just sat there. But he did and it was sent back.

What was sent back you ask?

The WORST spaghetti and meatballs I have EVER had in my life.

Now, before people get up in arms about how picky I am about my Italian food (and it’s true. And I’ll be damned if I ever eat in an Olive Garden ever again) and I know I’m in South Florida but come on! But this time I have a witness. My cousin took a bite out of my meat ball and agreed that it was bland. (She likes EVERYTHING plain and for her to say it was bland is big)

Not only was it bland, it was a soggy piece of meat. It looked and tasted like it had been sitting in lukewarm water.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The pasta was totally over done, and the sauce or “gravy” as they called it with “imported Italian tomatoes.” If that is what Italian tomatoes taste like, I’m ashamed they made it into that sauce (I’ll take Jersey tomatoes any day). The sauce I had at the cafeteria at the camp I work today, which literally has no flavor to it, was better than that. There was no spice, no hint of wine, no saltiness from shredded cheese, and no love.

The restaurant will remain nameless because they did put in a different order for me and the pizza wasn’t terrible (that’s a rave mind you). Luckily someone down here knew what “plain” meant so I ended up with what I ordered (for those of you who don’t know “plain” means cheese. Plain pizza = cheese pizza. Duh).

I did feel bad though because that meant my cousins and my uncle had to wait around for 1) my food and 2) for me to finish. I try not to be a burden on any one. So I ate as fast as I could while they waited for me checking whatever it was on their phones.

So I’m truly not trying to be cynical tonight. I was just really hoping for a good, not great, dish of spaghetti and meatballs (side note: I asked the waiter how it was and he said, “It is delicious” so either he has never tried it, lied, or has never had good Italian).

I also believe that if someone complains about something, they have to have grounds to stand on. And I do. I know, for a fact, that I can make MUCH better meatballs and sauce. Ask my roommates. I made a huge pot at school this past semester (and my kitchen was the size of a postage stamp). My Dad taught me well and I plan to teach my kids, or whoever else wants to learn, how to make a great pot of sauce.

Some things I learned after tonight:

  • Sometimes you have to send the food back no matter how bad you feel
  • Be wary of the Italian dishes you order outside of the Northeast
  • If you’re going to complain about something, have a solid argument


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