Slow day at work today, so I went out to grab some lunch. The rural setting I work in doesn’t offer much in the way of variety as far as food goes, so I often find my way to the local gas station for a sub, or lately a Cesar salad which isn’t half bad. I got there today only to find that they hadn’t made any salads, and while the lady behind the counter offered to make me one, she did so with a tone in her voice that suggested I’d better not take her up on the offer.
I didn’t, and looked at their warming case where they have onion rings, chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, and the like. I call it the ‘death case’ because everything in there is deep-fried and, while tasty- will remove several days off of your life expectancy merely by looking at it. Eating from there is another story.
Feeling adventurous, I ordered a small thing of chicken fingers, then spied the most horrible thing I’ve ever witnessed.
What looked like tiny battered light bulbs turned out to be deep-fried mushrooms.
I recoiled in horror.
I LOVE mushrooms. I’ll put them on steak, burgers, and chicken, I’ll put them in salads and on sandwiches, and eat them raw with dip whenever I can. I am also a fan of fried foods…but deep frying mushrooms? No way.
The only thing worse than the psychopath who deep-fries mushrooms, is the psychopath who decides to EAT them.
….If you’ve been around this blog long enough, you’ve already guessed what happened next.
In a testament to the character flaws which will get me killed if life ever turns into a horror movie- my curiosity overcame my good sense and I ordered them.
Dear, gentle, smart readers, at this point, I wish I could tell you that my initial assessment of these things was wrong, and that my tongue was graced with what could have been the most amazing thing ever eaten by a human being…but I’d be lying.
Never before, in the history of my eating things- have I ever been so close to immediately vomiting as soon as I swallowed something…. and I’ve eaten escargot and huitlacoche (google that last one if your constitutions are iron-clad)
The very first one of these things that I ate slithered down the back of my throat, lubed by the excess grease trapped inside of the cavity of batter. The snails I’ve eaten didn’t taste of snails as much as this did.
Suppressing a gag, once again I failed to logic my way through the situation, and rather than pitch the rest of the order out the window of the car and risk being cited for dumping toxic waste, I wondered if they got better as you went along, and ate the rest of them.
Not surprisingly…the whole experience got worse.
By the time I finished the order, my stomach swirled much the same as it would have on a post-lunch jaunt on a roller coaster. The hell-sent culinary creations sat in the bottom of it like a load of lead, sloshing about in the grease and masticated mushroom juice and I wanted to lose it all, immediately.
I do, of course realize that eating ANYTHING from a gas station that has been deep-fried is a bad idea, and that had I done it properly and ordered these things in a restaurant with the appropriate preparation, dipping sauces, and alternatives- my experience might have been different…but I doubt it.
We’re going on nearly half an hour since I ingested these gut-murdering mushrooms, and my stomach is still swearing at me in actual, audible languages.
Consider this a public service announcement.
I don’t care how hungry you are.
I don’t care how curious you are.
I don’t even care how brave you are.
Don’t eat a deep-fried mushroom from a gas station.