Wednesday, December 23, 2015

False In Advertising

Once The Pony and I went inside the predetermined restaurant meeting place, we found my favorite gambling aunt and her grandson waiting for us. Let's just call that place Bison Untamed Bird-Appendages.

FGA waved us to their table. Apparently they had been cooling their heels and chowing down on dill pickle chips and potato slices. FGA asked if I had seen her new puppy.

"No."

"Oh, she's in the car. You can see her when we go out."

"You can't leave a dog in the car!"

"She's perfectly happy there. She LOVES to go places with me. I got her at the pound. Her owner had to go back to jail. So there was nobody to take care of her. She's half chihuahua and half terrier. Her name is Puppy. The people at the pound asked what I was going to changer her name to. 'I'm not. She's had that name for five years. You can't change it now. She's PUPPY!'" Let the record show that the temperature was in the low 40s, and Puppy was fine when we went outside to leave.

We set to ordering our food. FGA had flatbread pizza, G-Son had a wing combo, The Pony chose a cheeseburger, which barely won out over mini corn dogs, and I had ultimate nachos. This is where the song in the key of lunch comes to a screeching halt. There was nothing ultimate about my nachos.

Let the record show that my menu item was described as such:
Chili, pico de gallo, shredded lettuce, fresh jalapenos, queso and salsa all atop a mound of fresh corn tortilla chips. Add chicken for an additional charge.

Let the record further show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom declined the added chicken.

My nachos first arrived looking like chips with a couple of smidgens of salsa on top. There was a mini plastic ramekin of salsa on the side. I pawed around at the chips. Saw a few strands of lettuce. Some whitish melted cheese on the top couple of chips. And that was pretty much it.

Let the record ultimately show that when I used to frequent Bison Untamed Bird-Appendages many years ago, they had a wonderful menu choice of ultimate nachos. Differently-colored corn nacho chips covered with cheese and salsa and chicken and sliced jalapenos from a jar. Mmm. These yesterday? Not so much mmm. More like...hmm.

Pardon me, but if a menu lists chili as a part of the dish, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom expects her dish to contain chili. Otherwise, she would have added the chicken. For an additional charge. But all she found in her ultimate nachos was a single booger-sized piece of hamburger (I think hope), and two beans. TWO. Beans. Assuredly, they WERE chili beans. But two beans and a booger-sized piece of hamburger do not qualify as chili in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's restaurant menu vocabulary.

If Mrs. HM were to write a review of the ultimate nachos served by Bison Untamed Bird-Appendages, it might go a little like this:

Watch out for the Ultimate Nachos! They'll hurt your eyes. Hurt your eyes looking for the CHILI! Can't remember the last time I filled up on a steaming bowl of a booger-sized piece of hamburger and two chili beans. Oh! Wait a minute! That's because a booger-sized piece of hamburger and two chili beans does not qualify as chili! The only thing ultimate about these nachos was the disappointment.

Yeah. Something tells me that Bison Untamed Bird-Appendages isn't going to draft Mrs. Hillbilly Mom into writing restaurant reviews any time soon.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

But with your shoot-from-the-hip honesty, you perhaps could travel around the country and try to fix some "broken" things. Like our educational system. Do you have any knowledge about our schools, and what's wrong with them?

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
I don't know much about schools, but I'm pretty sure shooting from the hip would not be allowed. Which is exactly what's wrong with our educational system. That, and that broken things must be utilized until Christmas or summer break, at which time somebody might try to fix them.