I have always hated cheese sauce. I will walk way out of my way in a movie theatre to avoid going too close to movie theatre nachos. I won't get into my feelings about fake gravy (ie. any gravy my mom didn't make) but basically, in general, I am easily disgusted by any sauce that might congeal on my food. I am congeal-phobic.
Hands down and far away, cheese sauce is the worst offender. WHY PRETEND TO BE CHEESE WHEN YOU AREN'T? YOU ARE NOTHING LIKE CHEESE. YOUR CONGEALED GELATINOUS MASS MAKES ME SICK.
Phew. Apparently I needed to get that out of my system.
So you are probably wondering if there is a funny story about cheese sauce that I wanted to share. There is. Well... not funny to me, but I see how it's amusing to bystanders. I was telling it to Ashley the other day after having a cheese sauce run-in and it reminded me that it would be an excellent blog story. It contains all the components: extreme overreaction on my part and... okay. That's all that is needed.
One day when I was in early university days I had a TERRIBLE day. I came home and called my mom and was blubbering something to her over the phone about how life is epically unfair and everyone was out to get me. She offered to bring home nachos for me from my favourite mexican place.
I should explain about this mexican place. It was across the street from our house and they made perfect everything. The nachos had the perfect chips, the perfect amount of melty cheese, perfectly cut up chicken that they cooked for you on the spot, salsa fresca.... perfection! We ate there alarmingly often, to the point where we were on first-name basis with the owner and his wife. When I came in, they would start melting my nachos right away without my even ordering. I loved that place. Until this one day.
Since this is a story about cheese sauce, I am sure you are guessing where this is going.
You know when you put every hope for your emotional survival on one inanimate object that you love because inanimate objects can not fail you? And when the inanimate object manages not to follow through it is like a hurricane through your head and heart leaving you only a sobbing and inarticulate mess? That's basically where my head was at.
My mom handed me the nachos and I opened them, sniffling hopefully.
THERE WAS EFFING CHEESE SAUCE ON EVERY SINGLE CHIP.
I know you knew that was coming but I still can't believe it. Literally, as I typed that, my heart sped up a bit and it's been ten years.
I am not that clear on how I behaved next, but I think it involved my sobbing as if the world ended and saying "Why would he DO this to me? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHYYYYYY?"
My mom, in frustration, said, "Why don't you just call him and ask him?"
Me, sniffling, "....okay."
So I called the restaurant. I still feel badly for this, because I was sobbing before I even started talking and I am pretty sure I made no sense.
"WHY WOULD YOU PUT CHEESE SAUCE ON THIS?"
"Who is this?"
"I always eat your nachos and there is never cheese sauce? Why would you do this to me?"
"Is this Amanda?"
Basically, he explained to me that that very day was the day where they had purchased a machine to make fresh cheese sauce every day in place of melting the cheese on every single bowl of nachos, which was very time consuming. I informed him that it was well worth the time to melt the cheese for every customer since now every bowl of nachos was going to be suspect.
He assured me that they would never give me cheese sauce again and offered me free nachos and promised that he would personally melt the cheese on my nachos every time I came in so I wouldn't even have to say the words "cheese sauce".
I am far less irrational now, obviously. I would, um, never behave like that now...
Does anyone else out there hate cheese sauce?