I had dinner with my uncle last night in the senior retirement apartment complex he and his wife moved into a couple of months ago. We ate in their restaurant. Which isn’t so much a restaurant as a semblance of one. Someone serves you but the selections are pretty much cafeteria and it smells exactly like the hospital kitchen I worked in. I suppose the choice of “veal oscar” is something you wouldn’t find in the lunch line. On the other hand, the dried-out cooked “baby” carrots were disgusting and nothing that could vaguely approach “gourmet” as they tout their restaurant as being. The salad was small squares of iceberg (not that I have anything against iceberg lettuce), small squares of tomato and a disproportionately large amount of cold, not crisp, bacon squares as if all these were punched out with the same grid system. This theory was disproved by the 2 tiny cubes of onion. All of this was scattered lightly on the plate and drizzled with bottled dressing.
I had the pork meatballs with the smear of fake mashed potato and congealed mushroom gravy. I ate it.
The dessert was chocolate ice cream. You can’t miss with that.