Banquet--what a misnomer

I went to a banquet tonight which in no way resembled the Roman banquets of song and story. I know what you're going to think: bitch, bitch, bitch, that's all she does, I bet it's not that bad.

It was.

First crack out of the box, a piece of flatbread which converts your mouth into a branch of the Saharah Desert, Junior Division. So I take a sip of water. Lukewarm. No ice. I go over to a drinks station. You understand that this is a Jewish function, so no liquor is expected or provided. That's okay, I can live with that. But no diet soda! Jewish women live on diet soda. It is what bread used to be to the ancients, a sacrament, practically. I've only met one Jewish woman in my life who drank non-diet soda, and she bought her clothes in JCPenney's. And no ice. Lukewarm non-diet soda, yum! I can hardly wait to see the rest of the dinner.

Now Jewish food, with some honorable exceptions, isn't too great, and Israeli food isn't much better, consisting I believe of stuff invented by Arabs who passed along the recipes but left out one crucial ingredient just to be spiteful. And these caterers aren't too hot with regular Jewish food but are serving an Israeli meal here.

Here it was: Some kind of watery salad, with all the vitamins leached out into the water in which it floated; couscous with the consistency of wet bread. A woebegone-looking tray of sodden grilled vegetables. Baked ziti! I ask you! This is not New Jersey, there is no excuse for baked ziti, the New Jersey national dish. It only tastes good in New Jersey, anyway.

I don't expect miracles, like sauce with flavor in it, but is it too much to ask to boil the pasta only until it is soft, rather than for 24 hours? The answer, in a word, is yes, at least for these caterers.

Then there is some chicken to be stuffed into pita bread with fake yogurt sauce. This was actually edible, so I ed it.

The festive meal concluded, tea, coffee and dessert were provided. Excuse me, coffee, caf and de, and tea bags. No hot water. Eventually a waitress showed up with hot water, which I requested that she pour over my teabag, since both my hands were full. She fixed me with a look of pure loathing, but she did it. Dessert was some marginally acceptable pastries, which I scarfed down.

I am now going to go into my kitchen and have myself some ice cream with fudge sauce. I deserve it, damn it.