Chapter 24 (Bettina Visits A Tea Room continued)

How It Tasted

Tomato Cup Salad

How this ten-alarm salad slipped into a sedate ladies’ tea room I’ll never know…after just a few bites I swear I could see smoke billowing out of the ears of my dining companions. The dressing did absolutely nothing to temper the peppery onion-and-radish bite--in fact only made it worse by adding a vinegary sting as well.

Even my husband (who’s generally amendable to spicy foods) couldn’t finish his. And as for my son and I, we merely picked at the lettuce—rabbit food, to be sure, but better than the dragon fodder stuffed in the cups.

Iced Tea

A Bettina must-have, at least summer—and this time very welcome after that tongue-blazing tomato salad. It took two glasses to put out the flames still raging in my gut, and DH and Son quickly emptied the pitcher.

Bread and Butter Sandwiches

These so-called sandwiches were a huge disappointment--just as Bettina warned, fresh bread really is too soft to be cut.

In fact, the bread tore so badly under the knife I didn’t attempt even to spread the ragged slices with butter. I simply arranged the bits and pieces on a plate, set down a crock of butter, and announced blithely that this was a do-it-yourself-project (no way was I going to be responsible for the ensuing mess!)

Vanilla Ice Cream

The ice cream was fine—but would one expect anything else from a commercial brand? Going into the meal I felt a bit bad about not making my own but, in retrospect, it was fortuitous (see below).

Chocolate Sauce

This was some strange stuff—quite in keeping with the rest of the meal’s oddities.

The sauce had the right color and aroma, but the flavor was sadly lacking. In fact, it had all the chocolate wallop of a Wendy’s Frosty, and the consistency was even more bizarre—like soap bubbles, or an open jar of something fermenting at the back of the fridge.

Marshmallow Cakes

                        Do not add the marshmallows while the icing is hot, or they will

                        melt, and the little “bumps” are attractive when spread on the cake.

Ha. I’m not sure who would find these lumpy morsels intriguing—an aspiring dermatologist, perhaps—but certainly not anyone at my table.

At a supposedly dainty luncheon these warty-looking cakes looked out of place, to put it mildly—like leftovers from a Halloween party I’d stashed in the freezer. They didn’t look the least bit appetizing and, much to my disappointment, the taste and texture were only a little more appealing than sawdust.

Would I Make This Again?

*gag* No. (did I really have to state that?)

This meal was a disaster from start to finish—the “Friendly Inn” would be out of business in no time if they dared serve this dreck to their clientele.

The salad was inedible, the “sandwiches” piles of buttered crumbs, and the cakes only appealing to pointy-hatted folks mounted on broomsticks. Just the ice cream and the tea were acceptable—in fact critical for washing this fright-fest down our respective gullets.