Feedback in the Back Blocks

Eating out for two months sounds appealing. What adventures are to be had there when eating in our local suburb provided us with conversation fodder for the week.

Dining out for Richard's birthday started out innocently enough. A modest restaurant with no claims or pretensions except they make great steaks. Couldn't read the menu......too dim. My eyes are dim I cannot see, so borrowed specs - all of us. Air conditioning blasting down our backs, older members of the party catching pneumonia and donning scarves and any padded jacket in sight. Time to move. Already we are the trouble table....sigh.
Very attentive waitperson, and another attentive waitperson. Orders taken, steaks excellent. Trouble table tucked away in the not-so-dim corner nearly done - until dessert. Nuts on the sundae - nut allergy here - send back to kitchen and create slight panic! Chili chocolate mud cake drowned in a sea of caramel sauce. Chili not so subtle, chili quite unpleasant, chili to remember. Birthday cake for birthday boy - hot stuff.

Strawberry and banana fondue to share arrived.....very small pieces of brown spotted strawberries sad on the huge white expanse of plate, a few chunks of banana (they are $13 a kilo at the moment) three or four marshmallows and a goodly amount of chocolate dippy sauce. Most inadequate, most expensive. Deliberation for some time on what to do - complain or not complain. Stories of 'what happens when you complain' abound - from underpants and nether regions to floors and spittle. So the adventure into uncharted waters began.
This is not what was in the picture, not satisfactory - met with a pimply blank stare - would you like to speak with the manager. Yes please.  Less pimply and slightly older (only slightly older but quite a bit shorter) manager arrived. Yes I would send it back too agreed the manager, so he promptly did. Proffering number two saw rearranged sad, brown strawberries huddled together for comfort in their final hours, chunks of banana cut into smaller pieces and piled proudly next to double decker marshmallows. Would anyone like to share - Seven people reeled back in horror and in unison NOOOOOOO.
The picking and the prodding began - extensive analysis of each item, extended recounts of true and lets-hope-not-true stories of what happens in the kitchens when the cooks deal with returned food. Body hair and dirt abounded, flying around the room and bounced off walls while the intrepid and brave explorers climbed the dizzy heights of marshmallows and banana gold and paddled in lakes of ooozy mud and slime, risked life and limb and battled disease and all manner of infections. The jungle closed in around them, the beating of the drum grew louder. The tension built and finally with the few bruised and battled red bandits spent on the white slab the mission was aborted, the soldiers ceased their labours and the feedback form arrived with the bill and the bottle of water ordered with the mains.
Feeding back to the feeder duly done (nicely) and with a warm feeling of self righteous, Bear Grylls satisfaction and with chili kicking in, the trouble table arise to leave, walk the lonely, quiet avenue, unheralded; no medals here, no 'hope you enjoyed your meal'. The crickets chirped and out into the lonely night the unsung heroes trudged, alone and finding solace in the arms of their comrades.

In the background the battlefield hummed with happy diners unaware that back blocks hold adventures for those who care to find them.