So I got the idea of telling this story from my Review Writing class, and how we had to discuss good and bad sandwiches without saying anything along the lines of "delicious" or "gross." So I'll give it a shot here.
I'm not a seafood person. Whether its salmon, shrimp cocktail, or lobster, any type of sea life tends to just taste terribly to me. The only exceptions to this rule were the fish nuggets I had when I was young, which I can hardly call actual fish, and some Thai dish my friend made yesterday which includes fish oil that made it a little saltier (which I have to add, was very good, despite the fact she didn't truly believe I thought so. That also reminds me I have to send her a link to this crappy blog).
I'm only saying this because of one time when my parents, my little sister who could barely utter a sensible word at the time, and myself were at an oceanside hotel over at California. I was about 11 or 12 at the time, just in time for the wonders of puberty. I specifically remember the spot as it was small, but had a great position next to the ocean and had a sweet Pizza joint with giant slices I have to guesstimate were 15 inches long at least. I remember that the slices had to be at least that length because last time I brought my laptop with me and it was even longer than my 14" laptop.
But that's not the point here. There's a very large pier within walking distance of this hotel, and at the end of it is a seafood restaurant. My mother and father told me to come with them, and at the very least, I just hoped that there was something edible for me, as I was starving at that point after being out on the beach all day.
When we got there, it was a rather cramped little spot with several busy people running around carrying orders. Having been sat at our table, the only thing I could find on the menu that I would enjoy is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Now that's the sandwich that's my bread and butter and my go to meal when I have nothing else. Naturally, I thought I should order that, thinking what's the worse that could happen.
Well, the worse happened. The sandwich was very bizarre. The bread was a dark brown, much different to the white bread that I was accustomed to, but I was fine with that. Then it really stuck out to me; the jelly and the peanut butter in the sandwich itself. Each had to be an inch thick at least in the sandwich, nearly as wide as the slices themselves. I was obviously upset, but my mother told me to not complain and eat, so I did.
Well, when I say I did, I mean tried. The sandwich was not one you could properly eat without making a mess. One bite and a ton of ingredients spilled out onto the plate at the opposite end. And that first bite told me something was off. The texture of it was so bad, with too much peanut butter making a sticky mess that made it hard to chew, the jelly rather chunky, and the bread itself felt a little stale. Looking back, this must've been a dish that they never really had to serve. Imagine years of your life teaching yourself how to fry up a fish, and then for whatever reason someone tells you to make a sandwich. Well, that's a bad analogy, but I can only help but feel they hadn't made a sandwich with these strange, foreign ingredients before.
I tried taking another bite, and it was somehow worse. Since a ton of the jelly had spilled out like I had said before, that left way more peanut butter, almost as if I was having a peanut butter sandwich. It practically felt like I was being choked. I could feel the tears in my eyes, some out of disappointment, but mostly out of the fact I felt like I could barely breath.
I think my mother could tell I was suffering because she had to call the waiter and ask about it. They tried bringing another sandwich, but by then, I was just sick to my stomach. Not only had it been bad, it just didn't process well. I don't know if they somehow threw a fish in there or something(that is the ingredient they know best after all), but it was bad.
In the end, we left the restaurant and my parents got me one of those giant pizza slices, since I could actually process that. I still eat PB&Js to this day, but I definitely know not to go to that place for them. Don't go into a Seafood Restaurant asking for a Peanut Butter and Jelly. Although I guess that situation can apply for a lot more things to, like "Don't go into a bar asking for milk" or "Don't go into a gun fight with a knife."
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