Tong Envy and Aspects of Aspic

Like an elephantine moth drawn to the flame, I am oddly attracted to that institution called the all-you-can-eat buffet.  I often ponder whether or not $8.95 is worth the near death experience of e-coli and other other potential ailments finding their way into the greenish yellow mandarin orange tub of aspic.  But still, I stare glassy eyed at the variety of food stations that call out to me in a soft whisper "come hither and clog your arteries."

Frankly, I don't want to be known as the "buffet guy."  But to understand the buffet world is to understand America.  So, I will try to acquaint you with the more bizarre aspects of my monthly ritual.  I must start with a few quibbles.  It begins with the "executive chefs."  Much like an asylum, I see a lot of men and women wearing white coats and hairnets.  When you graduate from culinary college, do you say "to hell with the Ritz, I want to raise the bar at the Golden Corral?"  I believe the only entrance requirements to work at a buffet are a white coat, black shoes and the ability to grimace when asked if roast beef is supposed be green.  The word "fresh" isn't something you tend to hear at a buffet table.

I think the buffet has singlehandedly kept the Jello brand alive.It's aspic central. It thrives in a buffet -- some green with pears, some red with absolutely nothing.  Red is a man's Jello, it needs nothing to "enhance" it.

I once visited a buffet that had "carving" night.  A man with the appropriate girth would  roast a ham and a turkey and would graciously cut it in front of you.  The problem was that the ham and the turkey tasted exactly alike.  Which means that the ham was probably a turkey with a layer of rouge.

Not surprisingly, I am a bit terrified of something called "fish fry" night.  There's about 8 inches of breading for 2 ounces of fish.  I think the buffet people can turn a single emaciated  fish into at least 100 all-you-can-eat meals.  The worst part of the experience is war-like ritual of grabbing for the communal tong.  It's a tong that works for both the mac & cheese and the "sirloin" bits.  In this world, a clean tong is like winning the gastronomical lottery. 

I'm sure somebody at buffet central has a set of Better Home and Garden's 1960 collection of casseroles.  Some of the selections look like they basted a tuna and rolled it graham crackers and added a few peas as a garnish.  And in every buffet they is always a tray full of vanilla pudding whose main attraction is vanilla cookies strategically placed every two inches like a cookie graveyard.  Apparently, the dessert person wants to spruce up the under performing pudding.

I love bread pudding but typically the only piece left is what we buffet aficionados call the "bad" corner.  This is a dried up square that has congealed into a glue-like mass that takes a millennium to digest.  

No buffet review would be complete without an observation that 80% of the people that eat here are over 100 years old. .  I keep waiting for Willard Scott to congratulate everyone.  If you're elderly I think it's mandatory to go to a buffet at least 3 times a week.  Apparently, it's a indication of the kind of food they'll get in the nursing home.  Lots of Jello, crackers and meat loaf with the thin layer of ketchup spread across the top. Mmmmmm.

The other 20% are families and very large men with Tony Soprano styled bowling shirts.  Then there's me -- a diamond in the rough.  Okay, well, more like cubic zirconium.

Gotta go, it's goulash night at the buffet and they'll be a line. 

Comments

[Khorj]

I�d sweetie to ascertain that too!