In general, I’m in favor of calorie counts being posted on menus (as they are in NYC in most chain establishments) however last night the whole enterprise bit me on the ass as I found myself in a truly embarrassing restaurant in Times Square poring over a menu and realizing the only thing I could order that I wouldn’t feel terrible about the next day would be the chef’s vegetables for 60 calories. How am I feeling today? Terrible.
Here is the thing: I find it hard to believe that small steaming terrine of oil with a couple soggy green beans in it was only 60 calories. I also find it hard to believe those were vegetables or that this restaurant had a chef. If it did I take issue with his vegetables. If anything, it almost seemed I’d pissed him off by ordering this item. When I bit down I tasted anger. Anger and regret and canola oil. Probably not even canola oil. What’s a cheaper oil? Vaseline? I think these vegetables were served in a terrine of Vaseline. A Vaseline terrine.
So then upon realizing this wasn’t going to do the trick of putting anything into my stomach since I hadn’t eaten all day, I asked for a side of bread. Glistening soggy bread sticks were delivered sans calorie count. But as a professional dieter, I know lard when I see it (on my ass or on a bread stick). I had to then attempt to peel each bread stick to uncover the virgin center, untouched by oil or man. Then I’d dip the small bread pellet in the sauce, which actually had a vegetable floating in it. A green pepper sliver. It all comes back to green peppers, doesn’t it?
I feel I had something else to say? Did I?


