restaurants

Comrades! The restaurant revolution is here. I, your fearless leader, Amateuriov Gourmetovich beg of you to consider the following two cases, both which threaten our peace and prosperity as well-meaning restaurant goers.

The first is the case of the soupy sushi salad:

Recent visits to two of my local sushi joints have produced salads like the one you see above. These salads were not unlike salads I’ve had at sushi joints all across the country: one part salad to two parts sticky, gloppy dressing. Let’s ignore the iceberg lettuce for this discussion and concentrate on the matter at hand: why are sushi restaurants drowning us in dressing?

Hypothesis 1: Sushi became popular in the last decade because Americans are more health-conscious than they were previously; as a corollary, Americans appreciate a salad along with their “healthy” sushi lunch; Americans like sweet, gloppy food (see: ice cream sodas, banana splits, Marie’s creamy Italian); sushi restaurant managers, in an effort to appease American health-consciousness while simultaneously stimulating the American palate, concoct a sweet carrot dressing that they dump over a pre-sliced, pre-washed mix of lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes. Goal: minimal cost, maximum impact. Result: Americans drink sushi salads with a straw.

Hypothesis 2: This is an authentic pre-sushi salad, much like the pre-sushi salads you see in Japan. The excess dressing symbolizes American imperialism; the iceberg lettuce symbolizes karaoke. Don’t ask about the cucumber.

And now for the second case. Please study this bill from brunch at The Stone Park Cafe:

Some might be alarmed by the $12 grits, but those grits had shrimp and cheese and were pretty excellent. No, we’re here to discuss the first and second items on the bill: the price discrepancy between the iced coffee and the coffee.

As you can see, coffee costs $1.50 and iced coffee costs $2.50.

Why is that?

Diana, who ordered the iced coffee, said it was just coffee on ice. Perhaps they’d brewed coffee earlier and refrigerated it? Was that coffee more special than the hot coffee poured into my mug?

We decided to ask our waiter. “Dear waiter,” I said. “Why is it that my hot coffee costs $1.50 and my companion’s iced coffee costs $2.50?”

The waiter, Robert V, shrugged and said, “I honestly don’t know.” Then he walked away.

Comrades, these are troubling times in the world of dining. We must rise up and save our salads from sloshing, we must demand fair prices for iced coffee beverages. Who’s with me? Who’ll challenge the status quo? No one?

Ya, that’s what I figured.