Friday, March 11, 2005

Bad Porn

Nope, it's not Jenna Jameson in her declining years. It's BAD FOOD PORN. The bone I have to pick (so to speak) is with Specialty's Direct®, and the pukebrimming chokehold it has on office folk everywhere in the Bay.

First of all, what is up with that name? It's not as if people mean to say "Let's go to that place that Specialty opened....nice fella, Specialty. What's it called? Oh yeah. Specialty's", as if it were a Mel's or a Denny's (which despite its attempts to pretend otherwise it really is). And it's not as though it means "Specialties Direct" as in numerous specialties forced directly down your waiting craw. My guess is that the originators of the brand did not know the distinction between the possessive "y's" and the plural "ies" and used the possessive for the plural. Your sure that there not to smart when they're spelling is so confusing. So when the time came to incorporate and all that, they already had so many napkins and menus and whoknowswhatelse printed up that they had to stick with the original, embarassing handle.

Now to the food. Like, what is this thing?


Well duh, I can tell it's a tuna sando. But what it really adds up to is a stained shirt and heartburn. What we have here is none other than some Bay Area businesspeoples' (note the possessive usage of the apostrophe) interpretation of what would seem appealing to bay area office workers, but is really so much of the same SE Rykoff / SYSCO that we're all so fond of. Enveloping this crapwich is Specialty's Direct®'s own bread, something they pride themselves on. In fact they pimp themselves as a bakery slash cafe, so we should all be wowed by the freshness of the bread they use. These oversized shingles that they call bread are substandard (while conforming to Bay Area pseudofoodies' notions of what necessary bread configurations should be) and reek of dough conditioner. What you get there is a huge gloppy mess a quarter of the way through the sandwich, because the circus tent of doughey joy has been made so structurally unsound by the pound of mayo-laden tuna, italian dressing, ranch, unripe tomatoes, half-pickled pickles and another layer of mayo on the bread that if it isn't already on your lap/shirt, it's gonna be. Forget about asking them to place the lettuce on either side of the fillings so you can save half of your sandwich for later and not be confronted with sandwich soup when you're hungry at the office at seven p.m. again; it's too complex. Furthermore, don't expect them to leave out the salad dressings and give them to you on the side in the hopes that you can use them later on those carrots you brought from home. Nope. What you'll get there is charged for two sides of dressing. This is the same problem I have with most pizza places. If you are ordering a pizza and one person wants cheese, the other pepperoni, don't even think about asking them to put ALL the pepperoni from a regular pizza on one side. No siree. We're happy to charge you for a whole topping, though, for intruding on our day and only making us work half as hard on the toppings. I worked at pizzerias long enough to know this to be a bullshit response.
The first time I tried Specialty's was at the behest of coworkers, who insisted it was convenient and tasty. Not only is it neither of those, it is also expensive and the ordering process cumbersome. Walk in, and some guy will take your order at the door. Even if you are standing in front of the register with no one in line, the older high school dropouts do not trust those young enough to still be in high school to write down "#10 No Salad Dressing" as well as ring you up. Hell, they don't even have to be able to spell, they actually only write "#10 NSD", so what gives?

On to the salads. These are so rank I would rather eat one made from miner's lettuce from a dog park. Who the hell is impressed by "hearts of romaine"? Isn't that another way of saying "pit of peach"? Yeah guy, your salad has a fancy name. But what it contains is the junk part of the GMO Lettuce Product® that is fit for nothing more than my compost bin. Scratch that, since it's GMO even the gaping maw of my compost bin would snap shut when it got a whiff of it. Who they save the green part for I don't know. Probably those who are fool enough to order the full caesar salad (which I believe they spell cesar). They know that these are the good customers, because they want a product drenched in salad dressing (jubilant cries of "#17 extra ceeeesar dressing!"), topped with overcooked, processed "chicken" and then topped with some of their wonderful cheese. I don't know where they get their cheese from, but Jaques Papin or anyone else who's ever had good parmesan wouldn't look at it twice. In an attempt to make their croutons seem 'fresher', they do not cook them long, resulting in that spongy sogginess that I, and I'm sure you, gentle reader, love so much. YOU BAKE BREAD. WE GET IT. It doesn't make you artisans. It does make me sick.

So just to show I'm up on current events, I'll say "Happy weekend to you all" (those of you who don't have to work on the weekend anyway. And if you do have to, what the hell. Call in sick. It's gorgeous out).

2 Comments:

Blogger uncle jazzbeau said...

We live in the Bay Area, dewd. The office worker can go have a delicious banh mi or panini.

4:08 PM  
Blogger Dr. Jones said...

I meant to work in a bit about how I'm such a good bay area citizen for using the public transportation that strands me at the office and leaves me no choice but specialtie's', but I didn't.

11:59 AM  

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