The hearty restaurateur should avoid three places no matter what: McDonalds, gas station convenience stores, and local elementary schools.
Nowhere is this more evident than at Clara Barton Elementary School, possibly the worst of them all.
Having dined at several educational establishments, I should have known better. But when Mrs. Fisher’s 2nd grade class invited me to their weekly potluck lunch, I agreed to sample their wares.
Bad decision.
The food left my palate screaming for Amnesty International’s intervention.
For “Potluck Wednesday,” Mrs. Fisher’s class brought a succession of baked goods that would make Martha Stewart have an aneurysm in her jail cell.
The horror began with seven year-old Colin Harper’s offensive rendition of the chocolate chip cookie. Harper appeared to have substituted the classroom chalk for flour, and the chocolate chips were so hard, they impaled my tongue.
The class continued its assault on my taste buds with eight year-old Krissy Connolly’s peanut butter brownies. Despite the fact that she was born without a left arm, there is simply no excuse for the blasphemous cookies Connolly brought to the class. Her cookies were baked in what seemed to be a four-alarm fire and left my taste buds convulsing in pain.
Next came eight-year-old Colleen Thompson’s contribution. Her repulsive chicken fajitas were concocted out of some animal which tasted more like undercooked squid than poultry. And her toppings of tomatoes, lettuce, and baked beans brought a new and terrifying meaning to the phrase, ” beans, beans the magical fruit …”
Then I tasted the work of seven year-old Bobby Garnish, who unfortunately lacked any kind of garnish in his nauseating macaroni and cheese. This plain presentation of such a mediocre dish would make Julia Child’s head spin in circles and fire shoot out of her eyes.
My inferno of heartburn aside, the problem with these culinary catastrophes is that the teachers and parents are leading the children to believe that they actually have talent.
If their cookies are this bad now, what will the beef burgundy be like in thirty years? They might as well serve from the right!
In the meantime, if you find yourself at Clara Barton Elementary School, it would be in your best interest to fake a seizure and take your food in IV form.
Until then, Bon Appetit!