Salad Days

I went to the gym last night after work, and really pushed myself. I was exhausted when I finally finished, but I needed to pick up something for dinner because Baby was working late. The original plan was just to order a pizza, but that seemed counterproductive to all that working out. So I decided I check out the new salad chain place that just opened in Chinatown. First mistake.

I didn't know too much about the place, but it seemed pretty cool. All sorts of fresh salad stuff, made to order for you. When I first walked in, I was a bit overwhelmed by the number of choices and the entire ordering process. But they had someone standing at the back of the line explaining how everything worked, so soon enough I had picked out what I wanted and was waiting to order. I'm not one to be adventurous when it comes to food, so I ordered a very basic salad with just a few vegetables. I noticed, however, that everything looked very fresh and very good, so I was excited about coming back with Baby sometime and trying something new.

As I stood at the counter, watching them assemble my salad, something dawned on me. The woman immediately in front of me and the man immediately behind me both ordered shrimp on their salad. If you're a regular reader, you know that shrimp = poison for me. I noticed that the bin with the shrimp in it was precipitously close to the other ingredients, but that wasn't the worst part. After they mix all the ingredients, they dump everything out and chop it all up and toss it again. They do this on cutting boards, and there is plenty of chaos happening with so many salads being prepared in such a small space. I realized that it was almost impossible to avoid getting shrimp bits and juice and poison in my salad, and I felt deflated. But at that point I was already at the register, so I just paid and planned to give the salad to Baby when she got home.

It's a bit of a walk to our place from Chinatown, so I called Baby on the way and told her what happened. More than anything, I was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to eat at a place that otherwise looked pretty good. But in talking about it, we realized that maybe I had overreacted. Surely I'm not the only one of their customers with a shellfish allergy. And plenty of vegetarians don't want any meat in their salad, and my Muslim grandmother damn sure wouldn't want pork in hers. I still had a few blocks to go on my walk home, so I got the phone number for the place from my receipt and gave them a call. I asked to speak to the manager, and he assured me over and over again that everything is sanitized after every single salad. They wash everything thoroughly, including all of the utensils and cutting boards, to protect against just this sort of thing. And although I didn't notice them changing anything while I was there, I had no reason not to believe the guy. He really did seem very nice. Second mistake.

I wanted to wait til Baby came home to actually eat it, because I'd be in trouble if I had an adverse reaction and I was all alone. While I waited for her, I did some more research on the company, to see if anyone else had blogged about this kind of thing. I couldn't find anything. In fact, all I could find were comments from the owners about their commitment to quality ingredients and sanitary preparation. I even found one blog where someone had complained of catching the stomach flu, and he went down the list of everywhere he had eaten that day, including the very same location in Chinatown. One of the owners actually commented on his blog, talking about their commitment to providing healthy food and hoping it wasn't anything he might have picked up in their restaurant. They seem like nice folks, right? By the way, the fact that they're scouring blogs is precisely why I'm not mentioning their name here, although I imagine they'll probably show up anyway.

By the time Baby finally made it home, I was ravenous. I already had everything planned out. I was going to take my basic salad and add some of the leftover turkey we're still working our way through. It was gonna hit the spot. So I was pretty bitter when I opened up the container and found chicken in my salad, especially when you consider I didn't order any fucking chicken. If there was chicken in there, there was bound to be shrimp as well. I was furious, but I tried not to go through the roof. Mistakes happen, the place is brand new, the staff are probably still in training, blah blah blah. Nevertheless, the manager swore up and down it was safe. Had the chicken not been there to tip me off, I might still be in the hospital or even worse. I wasn't happy.

But rather than do what you'd think I would do- blog about it and mention their name and threaten to burn the place down and put them out of business and other acts of comic hysteria- I decided to try to be constructive. I wrote a nice, calm email to them through their website. I expressed my disappointment with not only the preparation, but the manager's story as well. I explained that I understood the growing pains associated with opening a new business, but I also voiced my frustration. I did not say fuck one single time. In fact, I was almost trying to be helpful by alerting them to a breakdown in the way they do business. I was fortunate that I didn't get sick, and the next person might not be so lucky. Third mistake.

About a half hour later, I got a call from a number in New York. It was one of the owners, calling to apologize. I didn't even know what to say, but I thanked him for calling. He offered to buy me lunch to make it up to me, and promised to speak to the staff to make sure they follow protocol in the future. It was a nice touch, and my faith in humanity was restored. The company obviously cares, right? Would McDonald's do that?

A little while later, I got an email from someone in their company, and this morning I got another. Then another. Then one from the regional manager, or something, explaining that he had tried to call me to offer me my free salad, and hoped I could stop by soon. At this point I'm freaking out. Who are these crazy salad guys? You have a business to run, stop worrying about me so much! I emailed him back to thank him, and praise his company for taking customer service so seriously (it's almost scary). But I told him I had to decline his offer, as I just can't see how they can safely do what they do and not end up getting poison in my food. It's nobody's fault that shrimp is made of poison- certainly not the guys working in or running this restaurant. I've seen the guys in Cosi make a shrimp salad, not wash their hands, and then make my turkey sandwich. As a result, I don't eat at Cosi anymore. I'm going to do the same with the salad place, because honestly it's just not worth the risk. And I can chalk up the lost six dollar salad as a lesson in how much shellfish ruin everything for everyone.

So if you're reading this, please stop offering me a free salad. Just make sure the people who work for you follow the rules, and try to come up with a way to keep the poisonous stuff away from the stuff that's not poisonous. I'm not gonna try to sue you or put you out of business. I respect what you're trying to do, and I think it works just fine for people who don't mind having their stuff all mashed up. But it's not for me, because it might kill me.

Thanks.