My displeasure has a first name
August 25th, 2015Filed Under: mayonnaise, meat, miscellaneous, mustard with 0 Comments
I made the mistake of buying prepackaged sandwich meat in an opaque package. It claimed to be “slow-roasted roast beef”. But to paraphrase Lloyd Bentsen: I have served roast beef. I know roast beef. Roast beef is a friend of mine. Sir, you’re no roast beef.
Upon opening the package, I had a number of thoughts running through my head all at once. For example: “Huh, slices of roast beef aren’t usually completely round.” “This looks like baloney, or possibly bologna, but with gristle, or possibly imitation gristle.” “What’s that smell?” and many others.
But upon tasting a slice, I had only these two thoughts: first, that I had a lot of sympathy for Fry’s remark that “That’s the saltiest thing I’ve ever tasted. And I once ate a big, heaping bowl of salt!”; second, that I was definitely going to have to reference this post, because that pretzel-and-jerky concoction was much less salty than this.
I was foolish enough to think that maybe it wouldn’t taste quite so bad slathered in condiments and between bread. I was wrong. I was foolish enough to think that maybe a rooftop view of a major American city would maybe distract me from the taste. Wrong again. Maybe I should have just flung it over the edge.