Saturday, March 15, 2008

I Still Hate Olive Garden

And yet I wound up eating Olive Garden's food this very evening. How does this happen?

As I'm approaching the entrance to Olive Garden I can almost manage to console myself with the thought that, really, the food isn't so bad. And it isn't so bad. It's nearly impossible to fuck up spaghetti and green salad, and they don't fuck up spaghetti and green salad. It helps that I opt for the meat-free marinara sauce, so I don't have to wonder about pidgeon or raccoon meat. And while bread sticks can be fucked up, their bread sticks aren't off-the-charts terrible. Their bread sticks amount to a softened, waterlogged, bloated tongue depressor that has been caked in margarine and salt. The salt tastes very salt-like and tends to white out the rest of the breadstick experience.

But then I get there and look around. It takes about 3/4 of a second to spot someone in a team jersey -- this evening, it was a guy with a powerfully pulsating buzz-cut and unseasonably sun-baked facial skin wearing something declaring his affinity for the Seattle Seahawks, possibly the Seattle Mariners (who really gives a shit which?) And in the next few seconds, I look around the entire waiting room area to see that everyone there is the kind of person whom you would feel a need to explain if he/she/it were related to you. "Oh, she was abused." "Oh, he came back from Vietnam very badly changed." "Oh, she actually spent two years in a coma." "Oh, his dad made him quit school after 7th grade and work the fields."

I'm pretty sure Stuff White People Like will talk about how white people like to deride the Olive Garden. Bring it on!


mikesdak said...

I haven't been to an Olive Garden in years, partly because the nearest one is 160 miles away, but also because their menu consists mostly of dishes I cook at home. I like to eat something different when I go out.

Dale said...

Mike, you're not missing out. It's an ugly experience all the way around!

Samuel John Klein Portlandiensis said...

But, dude ... breadsticks!

On balance, though, I think there's some psyk ... er, pyski ... er, mind bending stuff in 'em.