Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating Our Words, where we've never yet pegged a rude waiter with a saltshaker from across the room, but we're getting mighty close. First we got ignored by an unapologetic staff at Royal Oak, then we got served what looked like a boiled saddle at Rainforest Cafe. What did we do to deserve this shabby treatment? We're nice to most people. Why, just the other day, a beggar on the street asked for the leftover french fries we were taking home from a restaurant, and we only made him dance for maybe two minutes before we happily handed them over.
Things went a little better at Giacomo's, and finally began to really look up when we tried some chicken at China Gourmet. We thought there was going to be another problem when we were less than impressed by the entrees at Cafe Espana, but the experience was saved from being a total loss when we were beguiled by some crepes. As often happens when we get around crepes.
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In the Republicans take leave of their senses and nominate Sarah Palin to run for president next year, and if President Obama publicly massacres a church full of kittens, then Palin could very well be elected President of the United States. When that happens, you'll want to know which canned foods are best to take with you into your underground bunker for the next four years. And hey, why not take each state's trademark soda with you while you're down there? That way America can live on with each refreshing sip, even as it dies a slow, miserable death outside your fortified concrete walls. Just be careful of these foods; they don't seem to quote know what the hell they are.
We tried whatever the opposite of Eurotrash is at Charivari, and got down with some Eggs El Salvador at popular Westheimer hangout Brasil. Change must be in the air over there; it's been a while since we've heard anyone comment about how snooty the service is. We did, however, find Hillje's Smokehouse a little jerky. If it makes you feel better, I feel bad about that pun.
We got to sample a grilled mac & cheese sandwich that wasn't technically grilled, but who can complain about particulars when such a thing exists? And the positive vibes keep right on rolling along, with Texas Monthly giving three of our local fixtures some shout outs. Very cool, although I'll never know what exactly they said, since the very act of opening a Texas Monthly causes me to fall asleep immediately.
Oh, one more thing: we'd better start eating these snails, you guys. If we have another waste spill this summer, those things could mutate and then suddenly we'll find ourselves in a shitty SyFy-style horror film in which Debbie "If I Call Myself 'Deborah' Then Maybe You'll Forget About Electric Youth" Gibson is our only hope. We have to keep that from happening, even if it means eating like the French. Have a great weekend!