There is Whole Foods in my backyard and then there is Whole Foods on Ponce.
Whole Foods in my backyard is Lance Bass. Whole Foods on Ponce is Justin Timberlake.
Cry me a river.
Sometimes I go to Whole Foods on Ponce and eat dinner. They have a Blue Plate Special. The Blue Plate Special is very hit or miss. When it hits, it’s good. When it misses, it’s awful.
Here’s how it works: you choose a meat–but not any old meat–you choose a cheap meat. The fish, for example, is off limits. (But, then again, is fish a meat?) Then you choose two sides. That’s your blue plate special.
Tonight I thought I chose well with spicy coconut chicken. Sounds tasty, no? I chose rice and mushrooms as my sides. I brought it to a table and took a picture:
I took a bite and had a similar reaction to Sylvester the cat when Tweety drops a safe on his head and his tongue spills out like a staircase. This was HOT. Firey hot. Backdraft hot. Some like it hot hot. Hot Or Not hot. Too hot to handle hot. Buster Poindexter hot hot hot. Who’s Hot? Hot. Hot Legs hot. Hotty McHotHot hot. HOT.
Maybe I’m exaggerating. I’m sure to fans of firey foods it was fine. And the first few bites were tolerable. But as the meal progressed my face turned red. I started to sweat. I really felt ill. I couldn’t finish. I ate the mushrooms and called it a night.
[A night of the Iguana night. Nighthawks night. Goodnight saigon night. A Knight’s tale night. Nighty night night. Nick at Nite night. Goodnight night. Night!]