Thursday, September 07, 2006
Food for thought. Really.
Nursing School is an ever multi-faceted beast at George Mason University. Part of my semester's clinical requirements have me spending 7 weeks on a psychiatric unit (oh, the stories are about to get a lot better. October 17th: Be there. BOYA - Bring Your Own Adderall.) and 7 weeks in a Community Health setting. So before I'm able to apply 4-point restraints to anyone or participate in a "take-down", I have to put in my time with the Health Department, Free Clinic and go on field-trips to the water treatment plant. Seems like a fair trade off, right?
Today started early with some AM radio (there are obviously some hold-outs who still listen... Good to know. I've managed to break both my AM and FM {thank you Exxon Car Wash}, so I XM. I'm so futuristic.) and the remnants of the health inspector's green chai tea on my passenger seat. We'd met briefly at her office and quickly set out to begin a day of scaring the hell out of local restaurant managers all over Loundon County. It was awesome.
Don't be fooled, however. I had some apprehension about today. Spending all day with someone who was likely to trek through some of my favorite eateries and point out all the unsanitary and bacterial reasons why I should cook at home more? I ended up completely rationalizing it to mean that I didn't eat in Loudon County now and could probably make a lifelong aim of never doing so -- so the day's outting was safe.
Until our first stop.
Which was Red Robin.
Which happens to be only the effing best place to get a good burger and eat your weight in bottomless fries (no lie. Would I lie to you about something as magical and wonderous as bottomless fries?! Please. ).
Which also happens to be the place the Betrothed and I ate dinner last night. Different location, but still. Did I really want to see how my burger was born and tressed up when I was pretty sure it was probably currently making it's move through my cecum (see, I could have said something more anatomically gross like COLON, but I didn't. I said cecum. And that means if you want to know where that is, you'll have to look it up. And by then you'll have forgotten about me mentioning my own digestion. Genius).
Once we arrived it was clear we were being likened to the gestapo. Everyone scurried around like bouncy balls being dropped on the floor. Clearly, a health inspector is like the king of food service. And with all this power and authority floating around, I was afraid I could be associated to any potentially bad reviews and then I'd be blacklisted from ever getting bottomless fries at any Red Robin ever again (an idea to which my arteries and ass were probably cheering loudly for..). I decided I had to launch my own personal "I'm with her, but not with her" facial campaign. I followed her around sweetly smiling at all the employees and giving the manager frequent "I'm just here for the learning!" shrug/smiles. I don't think it furthered my cause more than to make them think I was maniacly happy.
However, watching them drain and clean the fry cooker made my aforementioned fears of loosing bottomless fried obsolete. I think I could liken it to a person being vegetarian after going to a slaughterhouse. While we've all seen fry cookers in hot action, I don't know that many of us have seen what gets drained OUT of fry cookers after all their hours of hot action. I think my cholesterol went up at least 17 points just by watching.
All in all the inspection went well. A few minor violations that won't contaminate your bottomless fries, so please feel free to eat at the Loudon County Red Robin. It's safe. After it was all over I wanted to give the manager a big hug, but he appeared to be wound so tight I was afraid that if flicked, he might pop like a twisted Red Robin red drinking straw. So I thought I better pass on hugging it out with the man.
Our next stop was Taco Bell. For lunch. For us. What? A health inspector literally just drove us to a TACO BELL for lunch. What is this world coming to? Wouldn't that be like a health inspector mecca? Eh, I figured if she was initiating the run for the border, then it was probably safe. I don't know about you, but it's been a spell since I've partaken of the Bell. They may have a clean kitchen, but it still feels like intestinal spackle.
After some delightful conversation over burritos and a mexican pizza we decided to launch another sneak attack -- but this time on an unsuspecting Panera Bread that opened just 3 weeks ago. As the delightful inspector scribbled little notes on her pad while she walked through the food prep area, I saw the manager mouthing "Oh shit" repeatedly behind her. Another manager in sore need of a hug I knew I couldn't give him. Mind you, they weren't terrible violations and I am not discrediting Panera Bread. Mainly because I hope to have another Fugi Apple Salad in my future. A few fridges without visible thermometers (they were in the back and hard to see) and some structural issues that were to be taken up with the landlord, but all in all, we can feel safe to have our bread bowls and cinnamon crunch bagels without fear of being too far from a restroom for the rest of the day.
So, today I learned that ignorance really is bliss. I'm happy thinking that the stork brings my food to the restaurant and leaves it on the tray before it comes out to me. Too many cooks don't spoil the stew man, they just make for more bacterial hosts. The kitchens were all clean and we didn't get to shut anyplace down (which I was secretly hoping to be a part of sheerly for the T.V. drama of it all) . Again, another day with a county employee who loves her job and executes it very well -- thankfully.
A few of today's tidbits worth mentioning:
Today started early with some AM radio (there are obviously some hold-outs who still listen... Good to know. I've managed to break both my AM and FM {thank you Exxon Car Wash}, so I XM. I'm so futuristic.) and the remnants of the health inspector's green chai tea on my passenger seat. We'd met briefly at her office and quickly set out to begin a day of scaring the hell out of local restaurant managers all over Loundon County. It was awesome.
Don't be fooled, however. I had some apprehension about today. Spending all day with someone who was likely to trek through some of my favorite eateries and point out all the unsanitary and bacterial reasons why I should cook at home more? I ended up completely rationalizing it to mean that I didn't eat in Loudon County now and could probably make a lifelong aim of never doing so -- so the day's outting was safe.
Until our first stop.
Which was Red Robin.
Which happens to be only the effing best place to get a good burger and eat your weight in bottomless fries (no lie. Would I lie to you about something as magical and wonderous as bottomless fries?! Please. ).
Which also happens to be the place the Betrothed and I ate dinner last night. Different location, but still. Did I really want to see how my burger was born and tressed up when I was pretty sure it was probably currently making it's move through my cecum (see, I could have said something more anatomically gross like COLON, but I didn't. I said cecum. And that means if you want to know where that is, you'll have to look it up. And by then you'll have forgotten about me mentioning my own digestion. Genius).
Once we arrived it was clear we were being likened to the gestapo. Everyone scurried around like bouncy balls being dropped on the floor. Clearly, a health inspector is like the king of food service. And with all this power and authority floating around, I was afraid I could be associated to any potentially bad reviews and then I'd be blacklisted from ever getting bottomless fries at any Red Robin ever again (an idea to which my arteries and ass were probably cheering loudly for..). I decided I had to launch my own personal "I'm with her, but not with her" facial campaign. I followed her around sweetly smiling at all the employees and giving the manager frequent "I'm just here for the learning!" shrug/smiles. I don't think it furthered my cause more than to make them think I was maniacly happy.
However, watching them drain and clean the fry cooker made my aforementioned fears of loosing bottomless fried obsolete. I think I could liken it to a person being vegetarian after going to a slaughterhouse. While we've all seen fry cookers in hot action, I don't know that many of us have seen what gets drained OUT of fry cookers after all their hours of hot action. I think my cholesterol went up at least 17 points just by watching.
All in all the inspection went well. A few minor violations that won't contaminate your bottomless fries, so please feel free to eat at the Loudon County Red Robin. It's safe. After it was all over I wanted to give the manager a big hug, but he appeared to be wound so tight I was afraid that if flicked, he might pop like a twisted Red Robin red drinking straw. So I thought I better pass on hugging it out with the man.
Our next stop was Taco Bell. For lunch. For us. What? A health inspector literally just drove us to a TACO BELL for lunch. What is this world coming to? Wouldn't that be like a health inspector mecca? Eh, I figured if she was initiating the run for the border, then it was probably safe. I don't know about you, but it's been a spell since I've partaken of the Bell. They may have a clean kitchen, but it still feels like intestinal spackle.
After some delightful conversation over burritos and a mexican pizza we decided to launch another sneak attack -- but this time on an unsuspecting Panera Bread that opened just 3 weeks ago. As the delightful inspector scribbled little notes on her pad while she walked through the food prep area, I saw the manager mouthing "Oh shit" repeatedly behind her. Another manager in sore need of a hug I knew I couldn't give him. Mind you, they weren't terrible violations and I am not discrediting Panera Bread. Mainly because I hope to have another Fugi Apple Salad in my future. A few fridges without visible thermometers (they were in the back and hard to see) and some structural issues that were to be taken up with the landlord, but all in all, we can feel safe to have our bread bowls and cinnamon crunch bagels without fear of being too far from a restroom for the rest of the day.
So, today I learned that ignorance really is bliss. I'm happy thinking that the stork brings my food to the restaurant and leaves it on the tray before it comes out to me. Too many cooks don't spoil the stew man, they just make for more bacterial hosts. The kitchens were all clean and we didn't get to shut anyplace down (which I was secretly hoping to be a part of sheerly for the T.V. drama of it all) . Again, another day with a county employee who loves her job and executes it very well -- thankfully.
A few of today's tidbits worth mentioning:
- Health Inspector = Food Service Immasculator. She, very kindly, made grown men into little bitches. Had their balls in a vice. Etc.
- Red Robin had a funny sign in their kitchen. Allow me to share it with you. "Sing the birthday song through two times to ensure full 20 second wash." I have no idea what it means.
- When she asked a Red Robin employee what the temperature of the water was, he said very self-assuredly, "32 degrees." Dude, if memory of 5th grade science serves, that's ice.
- With regards to their procedure on heating up their pre-made (delicious) soups without a thermometer (they're getting one, don't worry), the Panera manager said with utmost sincerity, "I just know in my heart that it's at least 170 degrees after 2 hours." Wow, dude loves, I mean, really loves, his soup.
# posted by Cathy @ 8:44:00 PM 
