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Souplantation

February 19, 2008

Cristina, Sariah, and I went to Souplantation for lunch today along with my sister and her kids.

Souplantation is kind of an odd place for me. I feel like I am a head of cattle. The resturant entry is designed to corral your party into a manageable herd and then you are led down along the salad bar to graze amongst the greenery. This particular strategy is pure genius because I have never seen a plate of food multiply faster than a salad.

“Oh, I’ll just have a small salad” you blindly think to yourself, “and then go on to the regular foods”.


But guess what, it doesn’t work that way. What happens is you’ll add a little bit of shredded carrots, a few olives, maybe a garbanzo bean or two, a couple cucumbers, some celery, a bit of red cabbage, some croutons, a dash of shredded cheese and finally a tiny dose of Salad Dressing. Then what? You look at your plate and you have the Mt. Kilimanjaro of the vegetable world looming in front of you. Slide that plate right on up to the register now Emeril, your little concoction is about to use up 90% of your appetite.

You see the genius part now? I go into souplantation with visions of all the yummy things I’ll get to enjoy, after all — it is an all you can eat place. But no, after I’ve had my enormous salad that I feel obligated to finish (you know, cause I took all that food myself) I hardly have room for much of anything. And how much did my salad cost Souplantation? I’m guessing 30 – 40 cents.

So once I finish my salad I walk over to the food troughs where the cooks are constantly dumping huge pots of steaming food into the warming dishes. I can see the fear in their eyes as they dump too, knowing that at any moment they might lose a finger or an eye to the throngs of starving masses surging towards the refilled menu items. Honestly, I feel somewhat stupid when I am standing in line behind Ethel (who is on her lunch break from the acocunting firm across the street) just so I can try to jam a slice of pizza, macaroni & cheese, a cornbread muffin or one of 6,000 other compressed carbohydrate concoctions onto a plate the size of a petri dish.

For some reason the whole scene reminds of me of walking through any casino in Vegas and watching countless hordes of people chain-smoking cigarettes with one hand and repeatedly mashing the button of some flashy glowing slot machine (they changed the slot machine operation to a huge button because really, who has the energy to pull that big handle anymore?). They all look hypnotized with their eyes blindly glazed over. Although to be fair, that glazed look might be the cataracts.

Anyway, I think Souplantation has seen my last dollar. If I want to feel like a dumb cow in a long line, I’ll just audition for American Idol, at least I’ll have a shot at getting money back.

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One comment

  1. oh man, so funny. and so true! i do love all their little muffins though… and the mac n’ cheese. But seriously what is up with the freakin tiny plates?!



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