Photo by Al Batt
Little did I know I was on the brink of an adventure.
It happened during a meal. No, it wasn’t the one with the granola that had granite in it, and the rice cake with birthday candles on it.
Goulash was one of my favorite dishes in our school lunch program, otherwise known as fine dining. We were blessed with talented and caring cooks who also lovingly prepared tater tot hotdish, beanie weenies and hamburger gravy on mashed potatoes.
I’d ordered goulash.
I anticipated the goulash like a baseball player standing on third base with no outs. I expected something good to happen.
Years before, I worked in Hungary on a lovely day and stopped at a rural eatery with outdoor seating, where I ordered Hungarian goulash – what else?
My goulash (gulyas) arrived quickly. Goulash is the most famous Hungarian dish in the world. It was made with basic ingredients – beef, peppers and root vegetables elevated to perfection by paprika. There was no macaroni, ground beef or heavy tomato sauce.
I was sopping up the goulash with a thick slice of absorbent bread. It was a delicious combination.
That was when a fellow diner arose to get himself an adult beverage. As he left the table, a donkey made a beeline for the vacant seat. I didn’t know where that donkey had come from, but it approached the table as if it knew what it was doing. It ate the goulash of the man who had left to get a drink.
I said, “Shoo, donkey!”
Unfortunately, the donkey spoke only Hungarian.
I’m not sure why a restaurant kept a donkey, especially one that refused to use a napkin while eating goulash. I supposed the donkey was a dishwasher willing to work for goulash.
That’s why, while I waited for my goulash to arrive during my recent dining experience, I looked around to make sure no donkeys were lurking nearby.
While I did that, I heard Rod Serling’s voice in my head: “There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call The Twilight Zone.”
My goulash was served. There was a particle of glitter in it. It was glinting at me. That was a surprising circumstance. Surprising enough to make a Chihuahua break its chain.
“What’s up with that?” said another voice in my head. This one wasn’t Rod Serling.
It was definitely glitter. I recognize glitter. I could pick it out of a police lineup.
A wave of confusion swept over me. Glitter can do that to a fellow.
I looked it up on my phone. Glitter is not a customary ingredient in goulash.
I am not a particularly finicky eater. I’ve eaten bologna sandwiches in a cattle barn and potato salad on hay racks. But none of them had glitter.
Where does glitter come from? It’s used in arts and crafts projects, nail polish, cosmetics, scrapbooking, gift wrap and greeting cards. A baker sometimes uses glitter on donuts when he runs out of sprinkles. And some influencer puts it on toilet paper to add sparkle to a bathroom visit.
The lone speck, sparkle or sequin of glitter in the goulash might have been a calling card from the glitter fairy.
I saw a sign in a store, “A boy is a noise with dirt on it. A girl is a giggle with glitter on it.”
I think we all have glitter on the inside. Maybe we get it from eating goulash.
It is impossible to clear a life of glitter once it has been introduced. Nothing is as patient as feral glitter.
Until my next encounter with glitter, I’ll see shiny bits of it where there aren’t any.
Don’t look for goulash with glitter on a restaurant menu. It’s a self-limiting dish.
I was able to walk away from the wreckage.
What did I do about the glitter in my goulash?
What could I do?
I ate around it.
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