Let me start by saying no one was hurt during the retelling of this story. Unless you count my gag reflexes as a person, in which case they’ve been thoroughly exercised as I retell what was truly one of the grossest things to happen to me.
It was a Wednesday night, and I was hungry. My neighbor suggested we go to the local bookstore, and given that I was hungry, I suggested adding dinner to the itinerary. I then suggested we go to a really good organic restaurant in the Uptown Minneapolis area. I repeat I PICKED THE RESTAURANT, and therefore I have no one to blame but myself. The self-loathing is strong with this one.
We parked. Walked to the restaurant. So far so good, nothing weird happening.* (*Aside from me being alive, that is)
The big win of the night was that this place serves breakfast all day. ALL DAY. Places that honor breakfast food by offering it throughout the day are the greatest gift on this planet. Breakfast doesn’t no time– it only knows how to make a person happy.
While my neighbor ordered the soup, I went for the quiche/salad/potatoes combo. Still nothing weird happening, and I know what you’re thinking– is this blog post even going anywhere? Yes it is, and it’s going nowhere good.
Our food arrived and I was attacking my quiche with the vigor of a woman who hadn’t eaten since her 3 PM snack. The food was good, the conversation was good, everything was GOOD.
Until I notice it. IT.
My neighbor continued talking about something (work maybe? men? books? more food?), but I couldn’t focus on anything other then what I thought might be on my plate.
The strange object was really dark…which is why I thought for a fleeting second that it might have been an odd shaped, charred potato.
Oh, how fleeting that second was my friends…because I realized very quickly that I was unmistakably looking at a wing.
Is that…a moth? I thought to myself.
And then I used my fork to flip it over…and low and behold, the body of a very LARGE very DEAD moth was belly up, facing me. My stomach churned.
I REPEAT A GIANT DEAD MOTH WAS RESTING BETWEEN MY QUICHE AND MY POTATOES.
If anyone has seen the SpongeBob episode where the worm turns into a butterfly and terrorizes Bikini Bottom,that’s how I felt.
My friend finally noticed that I was no longer listening.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
I pointed my fork at the wing. “I think it’s a moth,” I replied.
We sat there in silence, staring at the carcass of a moth that had made it’s death bed next to my bed of greens.
“Talk about a true farm to table experience,” she joked. “Go up there and tell our waitress.”
I looked around the empty restaurant, not really sure what to do. Having been a waitress in high school and college, I hate making a big deal about my meal. Even if a server brings me the completely wrong meal, I tend to eat it anyway. However… I’ve never had a moth in my food before. All I wanted was a bug-free dinner, not an audition for The Amazing Race (Is that show even in existence?), and now I had to make my first ever restaurant complaint.
I approached the counter with my half-eaten plate held away from my body in case the moth got a second wind.
“Do you need a box?” Our waitress asked.
“No… there’s actually a moth right here, so” I gestured to the insect, letting my sentence trail off.
“Oh,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. And then she said:
“Do you want a free dessert?”
I KNOW. For all I know there’s an entire ant colony baked into their delicious looking brownies. Or a desiccated worm mixed into the chocolate chip cookies. SO NO, I DON’T WANT A FREE DESSERT.
“Um, I’m okay. No thank you,” I said like the meek goddess that I am. “I just wanted to let you guys know…so…” God, you guys, could I be any worse at handling uncomfortable situations? The answer is obviously yes. But this was pretty bad.
She then took the offensive plate back into the kitchen, showing no signs that she was going to return to the counter.
“Should we leave?” My friend asked. “Should we ask for a refund?”
I shook my head. “Nope, I just really want to leave.”
Long story short, we went to the bookstore and because I was still hungry (is this the fourth time I’ve written that phrase in this post?) I got a large ice cream sundae after. Whether you’re going through a break-up, or you just found a moth that made the rest of your quiche inedible, there are no wounds that ice cream sundaes can’t heal.
So readers, what did we learn today?
- Quiches are delicious
- Erin is always hungry. No joke, lock your pantries. Nothing is safe.
- Having a dead moth in your food is nauseating, but makes for a good blog post.
- Be wary of restaurants that tout their farm-to-table/organic meals. There’s a probably a bug hiding in your food. Actually, no, scratch that. There is DEFINITELY a bug lurking in there so eat at your own risk!
Anyway, I’m going to go puke now– the memories are too real.
PS- The Amazing Race is still on TV. I looked it up so no one else has to. You’re all welcome.
6 thoughts on “When There’s too much Farm on the Table”
if it’s any consolation I wouldn’t have the courage even to talk to the waitress. I would just have left, hungry hahahaha.
A bug is gross, I will grant you that. But I will raise you the bandaid in my bean burrito back in college–which is why I’ve never gone to a Taco Bell since.
I don’t know how I didn’t see this comment until now. That DEFINITELY trumps the moth experience… good lord!
You’re kind of lucky I don’t have your current mailing address, because my first thought was “ooh, I should send her some chapulines just to freak her out!”
Hope your meals have been moth-free since….
Haha thankfully no more moth-to-mouth encounters! There have been a few moths trying to get into my apartment, though…
Haha thankfully no more moth-to-mouth encounters! There have been a few moths trying to get into my apartment, though…stay tuned!