[post by randomvis]
I’m going to cop flak for this— but I don’t care.
I don’t even care if I ruin this pub favourite. The truth is more important.
This has gnawed away at me ever since I sat eating a chicken parmi and realized my son’s kid’s meal, nuggets + chips + salad and sauce is just a miniaturized concept. Rather, the parmi is just the ‘adultified’ version of the nuggets. You can @ me if you want to argue about the nuances about additional mozzarella, the difference between the sauces or even the number of nuggets versus the size of parmi, but I won’t respond. You and I both know now you are eating a kids meal and you need to grow up.
One thing remains constant, crumbed chicken, sauce, chips and salad.
You can’t run from it, you are eating a kids meal dressed in an adult’s name.
I don’t care.
When you’ve been floodlocked in the bush for two weeks, rationing your food, repositioning camp out of flooded areas, creating structures from trees and fallen logs to survive the storms, finding out other parties have been airlifted, travelling 20km of rough trail every day to check the river levels, until finally it’s low enough to dare a crossing… When you get to a town pub, covered in mud, exhausted, out of calories, and they have 10 different parmis—one loaded with bacon—I’m in fucking heaven. Hell damn ass heaven.
A steak would never cut it.