My lunch Friday was, to say the least, disappointing.
I supposed it’s my own fault. I’ve come to expect a lot from the Lenten Menu at The Towne Grill (improperly apostrophed motto: “Food at It’s Best”), but their last offering left me with a bad taste in my mouth (pardon the pun).
First, the service was slower than usual. TG’s waitstaff are normally on the ball, but for this visit the service was on par with the meal, which is to say it was not so hot. It took longer than normal to take my order and much longer than normal to receive my meal.
I ordered the Special: A fried catfish fillet, fries, cole slaw, green beans, hushpuppies and roll. The catfish, which in meals past was so flaky, hot and light was oily, chewy and tasted more than a little bit muddy. Instead of delicate hints of Creole and a suggestion of lemony goodness, all I tasted was the Missouri River. The fries were over done and the roll was of inferior quality. The green beans were merely average, and don’t get me started on the hush puppies. Even the portions failed to live up to my expectations. It wouldn’t surprise me if the cancer-fighting Omega-3 fatty acids had been genetically replaced with that foul tasting periodontal cement they use at the dentist. I’ve never been a cole slaw man, so I cannot comment on its merits. The same goes for the tartar sauce.
So over the weekend, I arrived at a crisis of faith. The Towne Grill had destroyed my faith in the magic of the Lenten Fish Fry. Knights of Columbus, where were you when I need you?
But thankfully the story doesn’t end there. Wherever God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window, just like Julie Andrews promised! I hereby do place all my faith in the magical and mystical Catfish Gnome! All hail the Catfish Gnome!