It's All on the Table Tonight
Sheena ingested the most god-awful piece of alleged animal by-product this evening in the form of a "burger" at a nearby pub this evening. Sure, it was only £2, but the good lord clearly had mercy on some cow who escaped their fate by hiding in a potato sack. I'm still picking strands of burlap out of my teeth.
No condiments, no lettuce or tomato, nothing. Plainy plain face as all get out. I believe I became dehydrated after about 3 bites. An IV drip was summoned. It was that dry.
Decided to consume a cocktail elsewhere. A travelling companion suggested "That Scottish place on the corner across the street from that place last night".
OK.
As we approached the corner, I pointed at the establishment and asked "Do you mean THAT Scottish place?". Yes, he replied confidently. "Oh, yes....", Sheena nodded, "Smollensky's... yes, yes of course".
Walked in and sat at one of the few free tables. It was dirty from the previous couple of patrons. Bits of beer label. Dirty ashtray. Smushed up strawberry and plastic garnish holder. I never know which place is table service and what's bar service over here. So when none of the precious black-clad moussed pretty boys bothered to move their clenched little asscheeks, one of our party got up and placed the order.
I loved the Chillito: A mojito, but with a few hot peppers muddled in with the mint, and a little touch of ginger ale. Very yummy. Like eating a cinnamon heart candy on Valentine's Day. Definitely a do-at-home idea.
Asked three times for someone to please swallow their clearly hard-earned dignity and wipe the frickin dirty table. One "didn't do drinks, only food service". One was "busy, but will get right to it". Busy, yeah. Playing pre-crackpot Tom Cruise and shooting trick rum shots out of his eardrum into a laboratory test tube.
It never got wiped.
With 11 nights left out here, three guesses where my money ain't gonna be spent....
posted by Sheena @ 6:31 PM
5 comments
5 Comments:
Gawd but you've reminded me of something I had forgotten.
May,1985. Late at night. Picadilly Circus. Hellacious rainstorm. Famished, was I. Spied a Wimpey Burger joint. Bad mistake.
An IV drip would not have come close to slaking my thirst after injesting a single bite of that piece of offal they called a 'burger'. This inability to successfully stuff a beef patty betwixt 2 pieces of dough - is this is British thang?
Either of you ever had the pleasure of 'fried bread" ...yup....."fried fucking bread"...for breakfast?
I encountered "fried bread". Greatfully, the previous night's drinking pretty much guaranteed I would be giving this a pass.
In Holland I was was once served a breakfast consisting many, many tiny, cold shrimp (raw maybe?) slathered on top of a single piece of thinly-sliced white bread. On the side, coffeee and beer. Was actually pretty damn awesome.
I've only been to Holland once and the bastards didn't even stamp my passport when I came in from Heathrow. Was there for about 22 hours and the four meals were all goddamn cheese sandwiches.
Damn KLM.
Oh yes, us Nederlanders love our friggin' cheese. Just be thankful it wasn't topped with tongue-of-whatever. I still remember the squeaky sound those sandwiches would emit when my old man attacked them with a ferocity that still offends me to this day.
Blecchh....
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