THE POETIC VERSION:
I walked in and looked around,
But no one was there to sit me down.
"Do I seat myself?" I asked the air.
I walked up to the counter and sat in a chair.
"Oh, we do counter service," said a man in my ear.
"Come order right over here."
I studied the menu and picked out a meal:
Penne pasta, alfredo and sausage... good deal!
Twelve bucks it cost (with tea), and I waited for the container.
Twenty minutes it took, but I'm no complainer. (yes I am)
Got back to the office and opened the bag.
They'd laid the box upright and sauce had spilled. What a drag!
The sauce was runny, and pepper ruined the taste.
The sausage was fatty. Man, what a waste!
The pasta itself was just plain blah.
Will I return to Thistle? The answer is, Nah!
THE PROSE VERSION:
I walked in but couldn't figure out if I was supposed to seat myself. Most places have a sign saying either, "Hostess will seat you," or "Please seat yourself." So I walked around and finally spied a counter area. I saw counter seating off to the side, so I sat down expecting to be served there. A man approached and informed me that they are a counter-service operation. Okay, I'm at the counter. Oh, I have to get up and go to the cash register, order, and wait for my food. Okay, then. So I went to the counter and studied the menu. They have salads, wraps, sandwiches and pastas to choose from, or you can make your own of any one of those things. I decided to make my own pasta with penne, alfredo sauce and Italian sausage.
I got it to go, which took a while longer than I thought it would. Finally got my stuff and walked the block back to the office.
When I got to the break room and opened the bag, I discovered they had placed the box in there upright. It's the typical to-go box, so it should have lain flat. As it was, a lot of the alfredo sauce had seeped out of the box into the bag. What a mess! And the little snippet of bread they gave me fell out of its too-small bag and was drenched in alfredo sauce. No problem, I didn't want the stupid bread anyway.
So I cleaned the mess and sat down to eat the pasta. Tried a piece of sausage first. It was breakfast sausage, which I wasn't expecting. Gross with pasta. And it was fatty, and too chewy because of it. Also, there was quite a bit of pepper. I think the pepper was already on the sausage instead of having been added to the pasta. I don't like pepper, folks. I just don't. A tiny smidgeon goes a very long way. The pasta was bland and I wanted something to flavor it up a bit, but pepper was not the answer I was looking for. Didn't matter anyway because somehow the tastes of the pepper and the pasta/sauce stayed completely separate on my palate. They did not mix or complement each other, or anything. So that made the pepper taste stronger, and therefore all the worse, in my mouth. I ate around the pepper as much as I could, but the pasta and sauce were so bland it was simply not enjoyable.
The sauce was runny and thin. I soon remembered that I make much better pasta at home. Sure, it's convenient to have someone else make it for you so you have no clean-up about which to worry, but I'd rather have quality food and deal with the eventual clean-up.
I kept thinking, "I'm going to stab myself with an insulin needle for THIS?!" I don't have pasta very often because it wreaks havoc with my blood sugar, so when I do have it I want it to be deliciously sinful. This pasta was merely sinful.
I walked in and looked around,
But no one was there to sit me down.
"Do I seat myself?" I asked the air.
I walked up to the counter and sat in a chair.
"Oh, we do counter service," said a man in my ear.
"Come order right over here."
I studied the menu and picked out a meal:
Penne pasta, alfredo and sausage... good deal!
Twelve bucks it cost (with tea), and I waited for the container.
Twenty minutes it took, but I'm no complainer. (yes I am)
Got back to the office and opened the bag.
They'd laid the box upright and sauce had spilled. What a drag!
The sauce was runny, and pepper ruined the taste.
The sausage was fatty. Man, what a waste!
The pasta itself was just plain blah.
Will I return to Thistle? The answer is, Nah!
THE PROSE VERSION:
I walked in but couldn't figure out if I was supposed to seat myself. Most places have a sign saying either, "Hostess will seat you," or "Please seat yourself." So I walked around and finally spied a counter area. I saw counter seating off to the side, so I sat down expecting to be served there. A man approached and informed me that they are a counter-service operation. Okay, I'm at the counter. Oh, I have to get up and go to the cash register, order, and wait for my food. Okay, then. So I went to the counter and studied the menu. They have salads, wraps, sandwiches and pastas to choose from, or you can make your own of any one of those things. I decided to make my own pasta with penne, alfredo sauce and Italian sausage.
I got it to go, which took a while longer than I thought it would. Finally got my stuff and walked the block back to the office.
When I got to the break room and opened the bag, I discovered they had placed the box in there upright. It's the typical to-go box, so it should have lain flat. As it was, a lot of the alfredo sauce had seeped out of the box into the bag. What a mess! And the little snippet of bread they gave me fell out of its too-small bag and was drenched in alfredo sauce. No problem, I didn't want the stupid bread anyway.
So I cleaned the mess and sat down to eat the pasta. Tried a piece of sausage first. It was breakfast sausage, which I wasn't expecting. Gross with pasta. And it was fatty, and too chewy because of it. Also, there was quite a bit of pepper. I think the pepper was already on the sausage instead of having been added to the pasta. I don't like pepper, folks. I just don't. A tiny smidgeon goes a very long way. The pasta was bland and I wanted something to flavor it up a bit, but pepper was not the answer I was looking for. Didn't matter anyway because somehow the tastes of the pepper and the pasta/sauce stayed completely separate on my palate. They did not mix or complement each other, or anything. So that made the pepper taste stronger, and therefore all the worse, in my mouth. I ate around the pepper as much as I could, but the pasta and sauce were so bland it was simply not enjoyable.
The sauce was runny and thin. I soon remembered that I make much better pasta at home. Sure, it's convenient to have someone else make it for you so you have no clean-up about which to worry, but I'd rather have quality food and deal with the eventual clean-up.
I kept thinking, "I'm going to stab myself with an insulin needle for THIS?!" I don't have pasta very often because it wreaks havoc with my blood sugar, so when I do have it I want it to be deliciously sinful. This pasta was merely sinful.
No comments:
Post a Comment