Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Danielle Sieverling Nreca

A taste vacation. Between


DS philo finished (= missed), I felt the wind blowing vacation. Tomorrow, I will conclude at noon, then I have no classes on Friday (well okay, Alsace has some advantages). I am so expected this holiday ! Starting in Paris and London provided, finally. However, I must wait for me to work, yes. Because the last time it was not really what I did and if I am falling behind ... Mamma mia, the pan, it will be bloody. Already we finished only 3 or 4 days before D-day (test philosophy to start. Currently, the philosophy is everywhere, and when it was better not speak) ... I do not know what to say but I wanted to write. Sometimes I feel this urge to ask me at my screen and let my fingers run over the keyboard. Until the words come, and they do not always come. Here, for example I could denounce the canteen. Yes, that's right, the canteen.

The canteen is a place where the threat is constantly scolds. Before the door in the tail of the self, and came up. At the door, for fear assails us: what will you one eat? More chips? In the tail of the self, because you see the dishes arrive and that if more chips. Later, because "p *****, I ate too much, I can not digest, I overdosed on chips, poke me!". Yes, the canteen is a specialist chips, even fat in general. For example, today, entering cautiously in the locality and watching, panicking around me. Tables, chairs watching you their vicious little eyes (Wow, it's gone wrong this afternoon). I undertake in the tail, a lump in his stomach, I take my tray to color filthy cutlery to cleanliness questionable (sisi), I slowly slide the tray back on track (of death EHE). I arrive at the panière bread. I take a slice, hesitant, since when is there? And then, a yogurt, taking care to watch the expiration date. And then the main course stands before me, or rather the menu: club sandwich and fries. Noooooo. Friiiiiiiiiites not. Monday I ate, I ate last Wednesday, then oh so last Monday ... Conclusion: I anymore. I like it, but too many kills fried fries. In short, club sandwich = kebab. I discovered with horror the deception. Fried kebab. I say "luckily the food is done by dietitians (they say) because melba sauerkraut every day, no way." Luckily, the white sauce (you wonder why) and onions are separate. I ask that fries, in a voice firm and steady. Then I see the piece of bread with chicken and salad in (and a tomato!) And I say "Go, take this. You're only asking no sauce and no onions." That's what I did. Oh great affliction, no ketchup (yes, they prefer to invest in OUR for a TV for teachers in the staff room. I still do not know what it is used to scroll images from unclean). I take. And I would not have. The chicken with herbs, and especially cold. In short, not good. French fries, drinking, but after a while we quite sure what it tastes a. I hardly finished my plate and started my yogurt with pineapple and there is the passage "where's Waldo?" version of "Where's the pineapple?". I take a drink of water (limestone) and finish this wonderful meal worthy of a Parisian McDonalds (at a place that shall remain nameless). I submit my set, I go out, I breathe, I wonder if I will vomit. Then I go philosophy. Fried kebab philosophy before. The alliance bad. And you know how much we pay for a meal? More than 5 euros. MORE THAN 5 EUROS! I leave you to ponder.

It's from the PC, even in kindergarten I eat in the canteen. I hoped to escape in Terminal, not even. Twice a week I suffered this torture. Or rather, let's say I renew the culinary and gastronomic tests to develop my critical thinking. But hey, it's been since I was 3 years that I developed my critical thinking. They could perhaps start doing something not drinking? And if it is safe, at least palatable and somewhat balanced. Oh sure, there are attempts: endive, salsify, Brussels sprouts, julienne vegetables-with-des-not-cooked vegetables, etc.. Seriously ... Who in their right mind eat it?

0 comments:

Post a Comment