The missus and I went to a most excellent wedding this past weekend. It's really such a pleasure to see two (or more!) people you love getting hitched.
The couple in question really did it right. It was a destination wedding. Northwest Ohio is, after all, a destination. And there's no better time to visit northwest Ohio than February. It snowed at least a little bit every single day!
But seriously, B&E readers, if I may be sincere for a moment, I couldn't be happier for this couple, and the missus and I were thrilled to be a part of it all. Nice friends, nice family, one near run-in over a table between a hormonal pregnant friend and some angry OSU graduates, delicious Greek food, some kickass processional/recessional music from the missus, lots of laughter, and no serious drama. I'm telling you, B&E readers... it was a great wedding.
So how about that winter road trip? Some of you may have heard that New York was slammed by a pretty decent snowstorm this past weekend. Thursday, in fact. We were supposed to leave on Thursday, and I won the "genius award" from the missus for convincing her to leave on Wednesday late instead. Yes, it was an extra evening in a hotel, but the idea was to get out before the storm hit.
We drove about two-and-a-half hours into Pennsylvania. When we woke up on Thursday morning, I was pretty convinced I'd been a total idiot (again), what with the several inches of snow and near white-out conditions.
But once we got a half-hour or so west of the hotel, it was smooth sailing, and we made it to our destination.
Naturally, it was a road trip. Road trips mean road eating. When you just want to get to your destination, you're limited to what you see when you stop.
Put more succinctly, we ate at fucking McDonald's.
It's been years since we've done that. Or maybe since whenever our last road trip was. But we really don't do the fast food thing. In the past year and a half or so I've largely given up sugar consumption (apart from fruit), and I've been watching the salt intake for some time now.
So when I ordered that Southern Chicken Sandwich, I was expecting a sodium explosion. It didn't disappoint, but salt was the second flavor I noticed.
When I took my first bite, I actually thought something was wrong with my order. It tasted almost like cake to me. It was just wrong. Once I took the second bite, my taste buds had adjusted, and it was all about the salt again.
But Judas Priest, B&E readers: I couldn't believe that first bite. It was really disconcerting. Naturally, I ate the whole goddamn thing because that's what people do when they go to McDonald's (or anywhere else, really). But I was spooked.
I looked up the nutrition information about a Southern Style Crispy Chicken sandwich at McDonald's, and it looks like there are 6 grams of sugar in there. That's actually less than half the sugar there is in other chicken sandwiches.
Still... That first bite was really sweet. And fucked up. I think I can't eat at McDonald's ever again, even on a road trip. There are other fucked up choices on the road, and those fucked up places will get my business.
I sincerely hope that they will not freak me out with their deliciousness.
Labels: food, me