Hello, how is everyone? Today I’m talking about takeaway food, you know, the sort that is prepared and cooked by somebody else, in a place you have no control over. How safe is it to eat takeaway or café food? How do you pick where it is safe to eat? I’m not too sure, and if my experiences are anything to go by, I’m not great at picking.
One day at work I was contemplating what to get for lunch, as you do, and after much consideration I picked a small Asian food place that I had never gotten food from before. I think I had been turned off by the orange bird carcasses hanging from hooks in the window, but they had been marinated and I knew they were supposed to taste sweet and savoury, something that can be quite yummy. Bird carcasses aside I went in and ordered one of my favourites – chicken laksa.
The person serving me was a tired looking, middle-aged man in a white singlet: I should have seen the signs, but I was young and inexperienced. He disappeared out the back, cooked my aromatic laksa, and returned, wherein my mouth watering, I paid. My anticipation on the way back to the office was palpable; I couldn’t wait.
I set myself up at my desk and fielded comments from co-workers as to how nice it smelled. I told them I had braved a shop I wouldn’t normally inhabit, but who was I to be judgmental, and I was proud to broaden my foody horizons. I removed the plastic lid from the container and inhaled the chilli infused steam, mmm, yum this was going to be good!
My spork (spoon fork combo) parted the orangey coconutiness of the broth, and I scooped up some chicken and ate. Mmm, it was so good! My momentary self-congratulations on picking a new and fantabulous place to eat was short lived. The second dippage of my spork produced horrific results. Along with the chicken was an unwanted condiment: a used bandaid. That’s right, used! OMG, shit! Oh no, I ate some laksa that had been infused with a stranger’s germy refuse, argh!
When I recovered from the shock there was only one thing to do: return the food and get my money back. Why does life have to be so complicated? I only wanted lunch and now not only did I fear an unlucky hepatitis contraction, I would have to argue with someone to get my money back. At least the bandaid had cured my hunger.
I took my infected laksa to the man in the shop. I was young and uncomfortable with complaining but determined to get justice. “Um, excuse me?”
He looked at me with the same monotone look he probably gave everyone, “Yes?”
“I just bought this laksa,” I said as I placed it in front of his face on the raised counter, “and there was a used bandaid in it.”
His lack of expression confirmed exactly how much this worried him, and his reply has stayed with me for the twelve years since it happened, “What,” he enquired in his accent, “You no like bandaid?”
‘Are you kidding me?’ I wanted to scream, ‘of course I don’t like the effing bandaid,’ but I contained my outrage and answered simply, “No, I don’t like the bandaid and I would like my money back please.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, gee what is it with some people, and gave me what I asked for.
Having undergone this life-altering experience, I saved lots of money by making my own lunch for quite a few months. So, peeps beware, there could be a surprise lurking in your next take-away; don’t say I didn’t warn you.
OH GOD *wretches* I had a large roach in a salad once…but I’m thinking the roach might be better than a band aid! *gacking*
I don’t know, that’s a pretty close call.
wow. that is why some places if they do not look like all is in order its risky business. A bandaid in your food. Sounds like they all need advance Food and Hygiene certification.
Reblogged this on dionnelisterwriter.
Oh GOD. I’m trying to think of a nasty equivalent that I’ve experienced so you don’t feel alone…but I can’t. This tops it. I would have hurled the Laksa at him. Or put a bandaid smack in the middle of one of those bird carcasses in the window, for all to see. Incidentally, laksa is one of my fave dishes. Just…not right now. 😉
Lol, we’ll go out for laksa when I’m down there. It’s been a while. I think I’m brave enough to try again, but only just…
It does help if it’s in another state. Psychologically, at least!
This post has given me a physical reaction. If my Nokia 2110 from 10 years ago had a camera I’d have photographed that sh!t and called the authorities. And his arrogance…
Chefs wear blue bandaids and gloves nowadays for that reason.
Lol, vom indeed 🙂
I can’t imagine.
I believe “laksa” is an old Chinese word for “dirty bandage”. Want to know what “korma” is an old Hindi word for? 🙂
Ha, ha! Ok so what does korma mean? 😉
No, it’s best I don’t tell you. You don’t want to know. Really. Trust me on this 🙂
I may never eat korma again…
You mean you’ve been eating it already? Oh, dear. Do you find yourself subject to sudden, irrational outbursts of emotion, occasional sneezing fits and an obsession with Apple products? If not, you’re probably OK.
OMG! I’m going to die!
No, it’s not that bad. But you might find you have to start shaving regularly, and your high heels will begin to feel feel uncomfortable. Other than that, no problem.
HUUURLLLLL….I’m figuratively and physically green by now and have not relationship to the wicket witch of the west.
1. Apply the epiglottis survival technique stat.
2. Enjoy a metric ton of “fisherman’s friend” and call me in the morning.
3. Write to the respective local heath and sanitation body that can shut them down.
4. Go to Malaya at King Street Wharf for a recovery Laksa because you need to get back on the proverbial horse (if you fall off you at least have the Band-Aid handy).
Excuse me…have to go back to my prayer at the ceramic altar.
Ah, you are a Sydneysider lol. I’ll try the King St Wharf solution. Sounds good. I may have some alcohol handy in case my penchant for attracting used bandaids follows me there.
Internal or topical application?
I’d go for the liquid courage soft edge prior to your next Laksa. Odds are that you will mind less if it should happen again.
Having said that, Malaya will be a satisfying Laksa experience. Other good places are “Lee’s”, “Jimmie’s Recipe” and the one in Hunter St close to Pitt St.
If in doubt, pack a shotgun and, if it should happen again, ensure that the culprit’s whole head is place squarely in front of the delivery end.
OMShiteG — I can’t believe that happened and the restaurant’s bored response . . . that is priceless but not in the best way. Sorry and yikes.
Lol, I know! It scares me even now.