View from the North 40: Garbage in, garbage gut, happy me

I am what could be called an indiscriminate eater because I enjoy eating, will try most anything and have favorite foods categories from cuisine and to gut bomb. I can be equally happy with a hot meal that’s taken hours to prepare or courses to serve and, on the flip side, pulling leftovers out of the fridge and eating them cold from the container just to kill my hunger pangs.

I think of it as an asset to be so versatile, and in my youth my family called me a garbage gut. They were fond of calling us kids affectionate pet names like that.

Imagine my excitement earlier this week when I drove up to the Order Here sign at a fast food restaurant that sells one of my favorite gut bombs (which I don't get very often because I think they are over-priced) and saw that the day’s special was a two-for-one on my favorite of their menu items.

I was barely containing my happy food-dance (don't ask) to a modest bobbing of the head. Such a deal … and yet you know I wouldn’t be writing about it if there were not some strangeness to the event in proportion to my joy.

A strangeness that is probably some kind of cosmic payback for not listening to all the health professionals and food-conscious people who tell me fast food is not good for me. What do doctors know, really.

Now, I’m going to do my best to change the names and foods to protect the innocent, but this story must be told because — well, you’ll see.

Me: I’ll have the two fried meat balls, and can I get one of them a chicken and one a rice? (I knew from experience that they had those meat balls in beef, chicken and rice, and without one of those foods listed in the special’s name, I thought it would be a valid request to chose which flavor I wanted. It seemed logical to me. I know you’re with me on this. Solidarity, brothers and sisters.)

Cash register guy: Um, so you want two fried meat balls, one fried chicken ball and one fried rice ball?

Me: Yes, and a medium Diet Coke.

Guy: You want two fried meat balls, one fried chicken ball and one fried rice ball and a medium Diet Coke?

Me: (Here’s me happy dancing with a bobbing head all the way to the pay/pick-up window with my credit card already flashing out the car window.)

Guy: That’ll be $10.98 (he said, while grabbing my card and turning away to the register.)

Me: OK. What? Wait – what?

Guy: That’ll be $10.98.

Me: No that can’t be right. (They were supposed to be on special and cheap cheap cheap, for cryin’ out loud!)

Guy: You ordered two fried meat balls, one fried chicken ball and one fried rice ball and a medium diet Coke — I read that back to you.

Me: Kind of. I wanted to get the chicken and the rice in the meat ball special.

Guy: The special only comes with meat.

Me: Meat? You mean beef?

Guy: Yes, meat.

Me: Well, chicken is — technically — a meat product.

Guy: Well, the special only comes with two fried meat balls

Me: So is your chicken not a meat product?

Guy: Do you want spicy or mild sauce?

Wait. What?

I would like to report that I did not eat the chicken meat(?) ball, after that dubious exchange, a person has to have some standards of food propriety. But, I admit that I savored every bite of that chicken(-like) meat(ish) ball(-shaped food product).

I'm an equal-opportunity diner and not too proud to be happy about it.

(Or is that just the definition of garbage gut at [email protected].)