Zubin T.
Yelp
The incompetent boob at the cash register almost poisoned me yesterday. I asked him 5 times if their rice was prepared with any chicken broth and he kept saying "NO", with a huge dunce-like grin on his face. He said "IT'S STEAMED."
I could tell after I had taken some bites that something wasn't right and decided to do a closer inspection at my airport eating table. It was pretty obvious to me that there was probably some chicken liquid or poultry something-or-other. I'M ALLERGIC TO CHICKEN. So I went back up to the counter and another guy was standing there now, and he confirmed IT'S PREPARD WITH CHICKEN BROTH.
i ate at most 5% of my falafel plate, whew, thank god it wasn't more, but I ate enough to be outraged and possibly medically compromised. Like another reviewer said, everything is all cross-contaminated and slopped around back there, and it shows glaringly in what they give you.
I also can't eat cheese btw, and thanks to the encrusted gloves adorning an employee (his plastic-sheathed hands covered in crumbs and food remnants, reminded me of a hairy latex everything bagel) who was manning the "other ingredients bins", the olives and salad in my order contained dozens of stowaway tiny cheese remnants all over them, which instantly attached themselves to my entire "meal", like hungry barnacles discovering a seaweed infested pier piling.
I started wondering if the food handling in this "restaurant" was taught on the tarmac over by the trash bins behind the Southwest terminal. The oil they cooked my falafel balls in looked like debris that might shoot out of a landfill volcano, featuring abundant particles floating around in it. It looked like they boiled a horse alive 5 years ago to flavor it and never changed it. When I grilled idiot boy at the register at the beginning about what the stuff in the fryer tanks might actually be, inquiring "is it lard?" and "has it got any poultry byproducts in it, or is it used to cook chicken?" and getting blank stares (that was before I came to realize his command of English was on par with having a conversation with the hummus they serve), I power-of-suggestioned him with the query "is it vegetable oil?" At this I received a gape-mouthed, toothy, enthusiastic reaction and some flipper clapping reminiscent of a Sea World trained otter performance.
After the damage was done, and my nausea was setting in, I demanded my money back and instead of giving it to me, they offered me a free desert or another salad. Yeah, right! I'm gonna' eat more stuff that your culinary brain trust back there have no idea of the contents. I started in a polite soft voice, then gradually raised my volume little by little and elevated my energy, causing some wide-eyed reactions from their upcoming victims waiting in line, until the pseudo-restauranteurs realized I wasn't kidding and they credited my Visa for the full purchase price. I hope some unfortunate bird or mouse doesn't try to eat any of what I threw in the garbage.
Thanks for the barf-inducing and negligent experience right before I had to get on a 5 hour flight.
