Serious Things: Yes. More.

Overture

Free food is a Very Serious thing.

Hawk and I received a gift card to the Outback Steakhouse for Christmas.  Neither of us had been there in years so we were pretty pumped.  Date night is an awesome gift, and it’s even more awesome when it’s to somewhere you wouldn’t usually go.

We went very early on a Saturday evening and it seems our server was used to working weekdays.  In fact, he thought it was a weekday and reeled off the happy hour specials for us (which only apply on weekdays).  Extra-cheap calamari and extra-cheap booze?  Even on someone else’s dime, we were IN!

I’m not sure exactly what went down, or how it went down, because I was busy wandering around the restaurant looking for the washroom, but somehow, our poor eighteen-year-old-or-so server had to explain to Hawk that it was only happy hour on weekdays, but we’d get the deal anyway.

This is how I picture it.

ACT I

Then our food came.  Hawk had some sort of monstrous burger with deep-fried onions in it, and I had a steak because I was at the Outback STEAKhouse.  It seemed like the right thing to do.

Mashed potatoes?  Amazing.  Broccolis?  Amazing and there were snap peas there too!  Steak?  

I could barely cut it.  Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough.  My expectations were too high from the deliciousness of the rest of my food.

Nope.

At the Outback, you have to order your steak cooked slightly more cooked than you would ordinarily cook it because they undercook their meat.  For example, I like my steak medium rare, so I ordered it medium.  But the steak I received was cooked well-done.

I was very unhappy about this.  I couldn’t eat my meat.  I was going to have to send my meat back.  But the rest of my food tasted good, and I have never sent food back in my entire life.  I’ve had completely incorrect orders plopped down in front of me, and I’ve eaten them with a “let’s try something new” attitude.  But this?  This was meat my Nana would consider eating*.  This was RIGHT OUT.  I was sitting there, staring at my food, contemplating this new sending-food-back phase of my life, when Hawk flagged down the server and took care of things for me.  Thank goodness for him.  I was ... frozen.

Back it went.  But, I was hungry, Hawk’s “yummy” noises were making it worse, and his fries were not only rather hot and crispy but right in front of me.  And the cursed man would not stop insisting I “help him out”.

Hawk is not a man who ever needed help finishing a meal.  This was shaping up to be a very strange evening indeed.

ACT II

An interesting thing happened while I was waiting for my meal to return.  One of the managers or owners or something of this particular Outback stopped by for a chat.  He told us that there had been a lot of turnover at this particular Outback, that they’d had staff issues, that he and his partner were trying to rejuvenate this particular Outback.  And he finished the conversation by giving the two of us a business card that had been converted into a $50 coupon valid only on March 27^th, customer appreciation day.

MOAR FREE FUDS?  Hawk and I looked at each other across his entrée, eyebrows raised.  However you cook it, free food is free food.  After that, it took a moment to get back into the actual moment.

ACT III

My food came back.  The verbose manager himself brought it out.  This time, it was cooked just right.  However, after eating a pile of my first batch of potatoes and vegetables, as well as half of Hawk’s fries, I was barely able to eat half of my steak.  Sad face.

But really, it’s okay.  As perfectly cooked as it was, it was way too salty.*

I have one more thing to say about that trip to the Outback.  The service we received was really good.  Actually, it was exceptional.

ACT IV

March 27, customer appreciation day, we go back to that particular Outback and seat ourselves in one of the few remaining tables in the lounge.  I have my doubts after the salt debacle of last time, but I’m excited for the free food.

We go for an appetizer again because it’s approaching 7:00 pm and I’m hungry.  Spinach and artichoke dip, cheap Rickard’s Red on tap.  We can taste all 8000 calories but 8000 calories tastes darned good so what do we care?

Entrées.  I stay away from the steaks.  I am once bitten, twice shy.  I get Toowoomba Pasta, which is shrimp and mushroom in alfredo with some tomato essence and some spice.  Dan gets chicken and ribs.  He almost doesn’t because it’s more expensive, but I remind him:  this is free.

My pasta is pretty good.  I estimate eight million calories.  THEN.

Our waitress does the unspeakable.  She comes to check on us … and my mouth is not full.  I thought in waitress school they taught you to wait until everyone at the table had a mouthful before you stopped by, but what do I know.  I am forced to actually speak to her.

I know.

Hawk finds his food overcooked and oversauced.  He eats it all anyway, then tries to eat the remainder of my food, but I chase him away.  Mine tastes good and I want it for lunch tomorrow.

This led me to determine the following must be true.

Still trying to impress your father, I see!

Wow, Mr. Caption, you got snarky there.  I'll show you "impress your father"!

Take that, haters.

This tale is more than just a convoluted restaurant review.  It has a moral.  Free food is good.  Free food is one of the best gifts you can give someone.  But maybe if the restaurant is giving away the free food you might consider these wise words.

*My Nana likes her meat cooked to a state known as "old boot".

*I think salt is the best thing after food so if I say something is too salty, that means that the food is basically fit to be put in storage for an Arctic expedition.

Image from http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/its-a-trap