You know what I’m talking about. You and your spouse are hunkering down on a rainy Saturday afternoon, surfing through the channels, when you stumble across some guy trying to eat a four pound cheeseburger in less than 45 minutes. Or maybe you watch someone travel to Zimbabwe to eat steamed maggots wrapped in tiger intestine. Perhaps it’s some gal with a twang whipping up the tastiest vittles south of the Mason Dixon Line.
Before you know it, Food Porn has you trapped, and you spend your entire day watching these many faces of Food Porn. You soon realize that the day has slipped away and it’s an hour past dinner time. So you run to the kitchen, slap together a couple of bologna sandwiches, toss them on paper plates, and run back into the clutches of Food Porn.
Oh, the irony.
Now the undisputed King of Food Porn has to be Guy Fieri. With his bitchin’ ride and his spikey bleached locks, Guy led me to a strip mall in Phoenix that served up the best beef bolognese that I have ever ate (and will likely ever eat) in my life. He also pointed me to a hole in the wall in Indianapolis that makes a mighty tasty tamale. And who could forget the place in Chicago that dishes out cheeseburgers with the cheese on the inside!
There was one time though, where Guy steered me wrong. My wife, Kellie, and my daughter, Emily, decided to try a place that Guy had once visited. We walked in and immediately noticed that the crowd was surprisingly sparse. Since the place had about as many patrons as you would see fans at a Cory Feldman concert, (yes, Cory Feldman actually has “concerts”) we were told that we could just seat ourselves.
Kellie led the way. She started weaving through the restaurant, going from table to table and passing them by, laughing the entire way. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought she’d knocked down a bottle of cough syrup before we left the car. She finally settled into a booth on the far end of the dining room. When we sat down, I asked her why she had passed up all those tables.
“They were already taken.”
As I looked over at all the empty tables, I realized she was right. They weren’t empty at all.
Flies. Dead ones. On each table that we passed. And while we didn’t have any on our table, I did notice one or two in the window sill we were sitting next to.
We talked about whether to stay or not, but decided we’d give the food a try anyway. I was a little surprised my wife agreed to stay. She is a very tidy person. Our house is always clean and organized. She sees to it. I, on the other hand, amaze myself at the level of filth that I am perfectly okay living in. But I digress…
Kellie ordered a pork tenderloin; my daughter and I opted for the beef and noodles. We waited for what seemed to be the average life span of a house fly (which would explain our table guests) before our food was delivered to us. Kellie took a bite of her sandwich; very good. But when Emily and I dug in to our beef and noodles, they were cold. It was kind of like eating a beef broth slushie. We choked down a few bites, but decided not to say anything. I had noticed that one of our new friends in the sill hadn’t quite bought the farm yet and was starting to kick around a bit. So even if the food were hot, I was losing my appetite.
So the King of Food Porn steered me wrong on this one, but I won’t hesitate to try other places he’s been. Most of the time, he’s right on. But as for this establishment, we won’t be flying in anytime soon.