#417. Fatal After Church Restaurant Mistakes
“Where did it all go wrong?” I thought to myself as I contemplated curling up into the fetal position near the farm fresh ranch dressing section of the salad bar. How had a simple after church lunch turned into some sort of fresh fruit and vegetable apocalypse? Where in this adventure turned adversity did things officially fall apart? How is it I came to have one of the worst after church meal experiences in recorded history? I think there were 3 fatal flaws that did me in:
1. I picked the wrong day.
Pull out your calendar and a black marker. Now draw a huge X through Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and Easter Sunday. In the eating after church world, we call these “blackout Sundays.” In the same way an airline won’t let you redeem air miles during popular flying days, I strongly encourage you to avoid these three days. I didn’t that fateful Sunday. It was Mother’s Day, which meant that in addition to the normal church crowd, the restaurant was overflowing with people that don’t normally attend church but got dragged their because of mom. But I’m cool with them, it was the Christians I was afraid of. If you didn’t grow up going to church, I have to warn you, a Christian will cut you at a buffet. And I don’t mean in line. I mean with a knife. I don’t care if the sermon was about kindness that day, there’s a terror that overtakes us. A fear that makes us think, “that tray of mashed potatoes is the last portion of mashed potatoes left on the planet.” And so if you try to get to it first, it’s on.
2. I picked the wrong area of town.
I grew up in Massachusetts, which is predominantly Catholic, so I never had to learn the rhythm of the after church lunch crowd. Catholic Mass was held at different times during the weekends and never seemed to overlap with my dad’s church. Having lived in the South for a few years though, I’ve received a quick education in “denominational lunch migration.” You have to know where the Methodists are going to end up, where the Presbyterians are going, and where the Baptists are headed. Above all, you have to clear a 15-mile radius of the largest church in town. We go to North Point, which is massive, and the restaurant we went to was way too close to our church. After service ended there was a caravan like the Israelites crossing the desert only we had SUVs instead of donkeys and were desperate for cornbread instead of manna.
3. I picked the wrong kind of buffet.
I generally recommend buffets for the after church lunch. As far as quantity of food and quickness of consumption, they can’t be beat, but you have to carefully select your buffet. We went to “Sweet Tomatoes” which is a salad buffet. It’s shaped like an L, with the fresh fruit and vegetables forming the vertical line and all the unhealthy food pooling at the bottom right hand corner. But what happens is that very few people go crazy for the vegetables. Rarely will someone shove you aside saying, “I gotta get my sprout on.” Instead, they speed by the greens and all bunch around the soups, the pizza and the potato bar. Like a hurricane gaining strength when it crowds around the warm air of the Gulf of Mexico, the church gang gains attitude as they crowd around the potato bar. I should have gone to a buffet that had the popular food spread out instead of clumped into one anger-inducing section.
It’s too late for me to redeem Mother’s Day 07. I’m slowly working through the trauma with a team of food-focused counselors, but it’s not too late for you. Don’t make the mistakes I did when it comes to picking an after church restaurant. Be bold. Be brave and above all, be careful. It’s a mashed potato jungle out there.
