Tzaziki nightmare
For a late lunch yesterday, I stopped by a relatively promising-looking Donair / Falafel / Kebab hut in New Westminster.
With my newly wheat-free existence, one of the staples of my diet has become the ubiquitous Chicken Shawarma Plate: kebab chicken over rice, with some combination of tzaziki and/or hot sauce, and usually with some combination of side dishes like Greek salad, hummous, and tabouli (if the place in question makes the greens-only variant, and no wheat).
Luckily, it's a meal I almost always enjoy to some degree, so given that it's more or less my primary fast food option (along with Taco del Mar burrito bowl and fast food sushi), I don't feel too unfulfilled overall.
Unluckily, compared to other fast food options like burgers or fried chicken, the degree of variation can be . . . troubling.
Yesterday was such a case.
Watching the guy smother the chicken in multiple spoonfuls of tzaziki, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. Mmmm, yogurty garlicky sometimes-cucumbery goodness. I couldn't wait. And paired with the generous amount of hot sauce he used, I thought I'd found a new standby weekend lunch spot.
What is it they say about not counting your chickens?
My first bite told me how wrong I was.
What masqueraded as tzaziki sauce (indeed, the owner even referred to it as tzaziki multiple times) was actually . . .
[wait for it]
[drumroll]
Tartar sauce.
That's right, that tangy and sickly sweet mayonnaise + sweet pickle relish + loads of sugar concoction that finds itself on the occasional fried fish. Don't get me wrong: I actually sort of like tartar sauce on fish, in the right context (I'd never ever put it on miso-glazed sablefish, but on some inexpensive previously-frozen fish & chips style cod, assuming I could eat that anymore, it sure does the trick to spruce it up a bit).
But on chicken? Paired with hot sauce, in addition?
What I'm not sure of is if they intentionally or unintentionally used tartar sauce as a substitute for their normal tzaziki, or if this was indeed their tzaziki sauce, but executed in a style which was undeniably tartaric. (If I gave you a taste in a blind taste test, and asked you what condiment I'd served you, I'm certain that at least 90% of you would reach the same conclusion I did.)
Insult to injury? After I trudged my way through enough of the dish to stave off my hunger (the Greek salad and hummous were quite good, at least), the proprietor approached with a huge smile and asked how it was. I know, that in the interest of the greater good I should have politely given my honest feedback on the sauce, but I just couldn't . . . quite . . . do it.
Honestly, the first thing on my mind was running away so I could wash the creamed-pickly taste out my mouth with the rest of my Jones Cream Soda, and forget that the whole thing ever happened.
Am I that bad?
With my newly wheat-free existence, one of the staples of my diet has become the ubiquitous Chicken Shawarma Plate: kebab chicken over rice, with some combination of tzaziki and/or hot sauce, and usually with some combination of side dishes like Greek salad, hummous, and tabouli (if the place in question makes the greens-only variant, and no wheat).
Luckily, it's a meal I almost always enjoy to some degree, so given that it's more or less my primary fast food option (along with Taco del Mar burrito bowl and fast food sushi), I don't feel too unfulfilled overall.
Unluckily, compared to other fast food options like burgers or fried chicken, the degree of variation can be . . . troubling.
Yesterday was such a case.
Watching the guy smother the chicken in multiple spoonfuls of tzaziki, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. Mmmm, yogurty garlicky sometimes-cucumbery goodness. I couldn't wait. And paired with the generous amount of hot sauce he used, I thought I'd found a new standby weekend lunch spot.
What is it they say about not counting your chickens?
My first bite told me how wrong I was.
What masqueraded as tzaziki sauce (indeed, the owner even referred to it as tzaziki multiple times) was actually . . .
[wait for it]
[drumroll]
Tartar sauce.
That's right, that tangy and sickly sweet mayonnaise + sweet pickle relish + loads of sugar concoction that finds itself on the occasional fried fish. Don't get me wrong: I actually sort of like tartar sauce on fish, in the right context (I'd never ever put it on miso-glazed sablefish, but on some inexpensive previously-frozen fish & chips style cod, assuming I could eat that anymore, it sure does the trick to spruce it up a bit).
But on chicken? Paired with hot sauce, in addition?
What I'm not sure of is if they intentionally or unintentionally used tartar sauce as a substitute for their normal tzaziki, or if this was indeed their tzaziki sauce, but executed in a style which was undeniably tartaric. (If I gave you a taste in a blind taste test, and asked you what condiment I'd served you, I'm certain that at least 90% of you would reach the same conclusion I did.)
Insult to injury? After I trudged my way through enough of the dish to stave off my hunger (the Greek salad and hummous were quite good, at least), the proprietor approached with a huge smile and asked how it was. I know, that in the interest of the greater good I should have politely given my honest feedback on the sauce, but I just couldn't . . . quite . . . do it.
Honestly, the first thing on my mind was running away so I could wash the creamed-pickly taste out my mouth with the rest of my Jones Cream Soda, and forget that the whole thing ever happened.
Am I that bad?