Wednesday, April 12, 2006

God bless the tartar

I had lunch today at my favorite restaurant. No, that's not true -- my favorite Etobicoke/Mississauga lunch venue. McNies Fish & Chips at Burnhamthorpe and Martin Grove. Actually - to be precise - they're now my former favorite Etobicoke/Mississauga lunch venue.

Something terrible has happened. Something unspeakably vile.

When the meal was done I calmly voiced my displeasure to a small contingent of waitresses. They were very sympathetic. They explained that they had a 'new boss'. And he had made some new decisions.

Teary-eyed, I made my way back to the office and promptly mailed this letter:

Jacob Tewtou
Mosaic Sales Solutions
2700 Matheson Blvd E., W-tower, 2-floor
Mississauga, ON L4W 4V9

Attention Manager
McNies Fish & Chips
315 Burnhamthorpe Road
Etobicoke, ON M9B 2A2

Dear “New Boss”,

It seems you and I have narrowly avoided becoming familiar acquaintances. I’ve been coming to McNies weekly for a long time (missing a week now and then, true, but coming twice the same week just as frequently).

I was there today. I ordered the usual. Two and a Few haddock, tea and two tartar sauces. But oh! The good waitress stopped me there and pointed guiltily at the brazen styrofoam cup sitting there on the table among the condiment gallery - only slightly apart from the others - looking defiant and with a brash sense of entitlement with all those slick and sickly looking packages sticking out of it like snakes from the head of Medusa!

Phony tartar sauce. Ugh!

I swallowed my shock! Choked back the horror. Calmly suppressed the gag reflex. Positive thinking. Perhaps I’d like it. Perhaps it would be - swell.

Au contraire mon ami! No like! Bad bad!

A tartar sauce must taste like mayonnaise and relish! There are no other options. This jaundiced cream-of-deceit did not taste like mayonnaise and relish. No. It tasted more like molasses and Pine Sol! Like worn rubber and monkey sweat! like stale cake and diaper sprinkles! Salt and dandelions! Piss and apples! Sugar and bleach! I noticed each packet holds about 10 cc’s. I pray that is merely a disturbing coincidence.

I’m in despair. I formed an immediate plan, you know. To locate the makers of this blarney imposter - this faux tartar. And to blow up their headquarters! But alas, I’m a pacifist. So my only recourse is this letter.

Respond to me when your noble home-made tartar sauce is rightfully enthroned again. When this vile paste has been banished. Respond to me then and not before. Don’t try to tempt me with flimsy excuses and tawdry coupons. I’m not some cheap hussy, you know. Stop the insanity! Lose the packages. Make your own tartar sauce. Make it.

If you make it, I will come.

If not, this is my sad farewell.

Sadly, farewell,

Jacob Tewtou

I hope to receive a response. I hope they know how to play ball. I shall keep you informed.


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