LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
EatingOUT: |
by Marion McGrath |
Washington Hospital Center: Got Food?
Let's face it. Sooner or later, as the boomers age, many of us will end up at some point in a hospital. Since I recently had that experience, I felt I owed it to you, faithful readers, to give you a preview of the gastronomic treat(ment) you just might be in for. Doing a little pre-op research, I discovered that Washington Hospital Center, where my surgery was scheduled, has a "boutique" wing. Yes, you read that right. It's called The Pavilion. Forbes magazine has named it one of the country's top ten hospital luxury suites. Let me share with you, from the hospital's web site, the description of what to expect: "Luxurious. Comforting. Tranquil. Warm. If these are the last four adjectives you'd ever associate with the word "hospital," you'll know why we have The Pavilion at Washington Hospital Center. An entire wing of deluxe, private suites doing its very best impersonation of a luxury hotel. There's soft, incandescent light that flows from delicate, crystal fixtures. Carpeting so thick it makes your shoes feel more expensive. And a complete gourmet menu prepared by The Pavilion's own chef, in The Pavilion's own kitchen. In your suite there's fine art, fine furniture and fine linens. A spacious, tiled bathroom with marble vanities and heated towel racks. There are complete concierge and business services. And, perhaps the best feature of all, utter quiet. In other words, the list of amenities goes on and on." Well! Further inquiry revealed that the minimum charge for a stay is $450.00 OVER what your hospitalization will cover, and they expect an upfront payment of $1,350.00 before your expensive feeling shoes step a foot onto that thick carpeting. Sigh. Needless to say, I opted for the plebian regular hospital setting. Food. That's what this column is about, right? So here goes. Day one was all intravenous, which left me with a hefty appetite the following morning. There are menus to select from, but much to my amazement, at each meal the menu appeared on the tray with something that someone else had selectedI wasn't ever given a choice. The good news was that I wasn't on any kind of restricted diet, the bad news was the food. Admittedly, the first meal I had, breakfast, was okay. It was scrambled eggs, bacon, a biscuit, and coffee. Coffee showed up at every meal even though I tried to tell people that I don't drink coffee. The eggs were alright, but the bacon was totally weirdit was fried in a perfect circle. Don't know how the chef did that unless bacon was thrown packed on the griddle and a huge circular cookie cutter used to cut out a portion. The biscuit? Overcooked and lumpy. Lunch consisted of a dried out turkey sandwich and something called "Chix Broth." One taste of each was enough to tell me to stop. Dinner was billed as "Chef's Special." Baked fish/lite sauce, tossed salad, and sponge cake w/peach sauce (which, apparently, someone else had eaten because it did not appear on my tray). The fish was a glutinous mass with absolutely no flavor and the salad looked as if it had fallen off the back of a produce truck. Susan rescued me with a hot dog from the cafeteria. My whole five-day stay was pretty much a repeat as far as quality and flavor. Some of the things on the menus that I wasn't allowed to select from seemed like they might be okay, but since everything I had was uniformly terrible, I wouldn't hold out much hope for anything on the menu. What does bear mentioning is the meals served on Easter Sunday. I felt that the chef would make a special effort, and I was right. There was an orange, roast turkey dinner, and iced tea. Roast turkey dinner was a chunk of what tasted like boiled turkey breast with a few sprinkles of dried rosemary and a side order of sliced carrots, boiled with absolutely no seasoning. The really great part about it was the exact same meal was served at dinner! So, to sum up I'd have to say, think of as many synonyms for inedible as you can and that would pretty much describe the meals that were put in front of me. This hospital stay did not involve fantasizing about pretty nurses in white stockings, but of the meals that must be being served in The Pavilion. And so it goes. Marion McGrath is now up, and almost, kicking. She may be reached at attagirl10@aol.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 14, No. 4 May 7, 2004 |