REM

King's Meal

"There is it," my mom pointed out as we drove by a warehouse door. It opened vertically as a car pulled up.

"King's Meal Buffet?" Looking at her skeptically after reading the sign on the corner. "I thought you said it was a French restaurant embodying European cuisine?"

"Yes, well, it looks different than most." Clearly she had her doubts as well, she just didn't want to admit to them. The whole point of driving to the new restaurant was because she thought I might like it, so I'm sure she didn't want me to be disappointed.

She pulled a u-turn and then headed back to the door where the other car went through. We waited as it opened for us and a man directed us to the left where the floor led down to a parking garage.

After finding a parking spot, we took an elevator to the main level and were greeted once again by the same man, who wore an all black outfit. It wasn't fancy by any means, but he seemed polite as he directed us toward the restaurant doors.

"The entrance is on the right. Enjoy your meal."

"Thank you," my mom replied, while I smiled with a nod.

The front of the restaurant was lined lined with high windows to block out the industrial feeling. It was after all a warehouse that was converted, so they needed to do something to make it appealing. A lot of new businesses struggled to find real estate to operate out of, especially ones that were cheap, so this wasn't the first time I had seen something so new and daring.

My mom spoke with the hostess and paid for the two of us.

"My treat," she smiled.

"Just like all the other times when you want to try something new," I remarked.

"They haven't been that bad," she retorted. "Have they?"

"Not all of them," I laughed.

She furled her brow and raised her hand slightly as if she would hit me in public, but did not.

"Let's grab plates and walk around."

I followed my mom over to a stack of plain white plates and began to walk along the buffet's right aisle. There were two aisles with food on the inside and outside, which made me realize why they named the place 'King's Buffet Restaurant'; the selection was absurd.

By the time people walked around the buffet, they would have either eaten what was on their plates before they sat down, or they would have cold food. If you enjoyed cold food like myself, then that wouldn't be much of an issue.

Continuing on down the right side of the aisle, I noticed that there was nothing French, or European about the signs by the meals. They looked like someone had printed them from a computer and cut them to fit into plastic sleeves.

I didn't recognize all the food, but that didn't mean those particular items weren't from somewhere in Europe. My expectations of the restaurant let me down as I walked by myself, finally realizing my mother had scurried off to inspect the whole buffet top to bottom before selecting something to put on her plate.

People passed by me at a slow pace, so I didn't feel like I was impeding the line as I hemmed and hawed about most items. A lot of them looked appealing, but I wasn't feeling as adventurous as I usually was.

"Did you find anything you like?" my mom asked, popping up out of nowhere.

"You're lucky I don't jump like you do." Placing a spoon for mashed potatoes back in the heated tray.

Ignoring my comment, she asked again. "Well, did you?"

"Not a lot," I replied. "Right now I'm just starting with some basics that I recognize."

"Mashed potatoes?" she questioned. "Are you sick?"

"No. Well... maybe. My stomach is feeling a bit off right now."

"Well follow me then," she instructed. "If you're going to throw up what you eat, at least try what I found at the other end of the buffet."

"Fine," I sighed. "But I would really like some gravy."

"There's probably some along the way, just keep your eyes open for it."

As she figured, I found a dark gravy at the corner before turning left. I quickly covered my mashed potatoes, then followed her to the middle of the back section.

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?" I asked, staring at what looked to be desserts.

"You don't know what it is?"

"What, what is?" I questioned. "These look like upside down cakes and ring-shaped jello molds."

"Yes," she agreed. "But the shapes aren't important. What does that one by the white one look like?"

Looking at the green and light brown blob, I was beginning to wonder how I hadn't thrown up yet.

"Seeing as the white one looks like jello, I'm really hoping it's not the same thing."

She exhaled out of frustration. "Evan, what does it look like?"

I furled my brow as I tried to figure out why she brought me all the way down here just for this specific item. The rest of the items on elevated platters looked fancy, but this one wasn't.

"I don't know. Is it broccoli jello?"

"No, silly. But it is broccoli." Her statement seemed questionable since I couldn't see a sign for the item. "I think," she added with a smile.

Glaring at her, "Funny..."

"Just try it for me, please? I want to know if it's like my broccoli pie."

I flashed her a disgusted look as I thought about the comparison.

"I don't think it's going to be anything like your broccoli pie," I tried to assure her, mainly to get out of trying the blob of goop.

"Try a spoonful and let me know," she requested. "After all, I did pay for you."

Sighing, I knew I didn't have much choice. As much as I wanted to leave at that very moment due to my wonky stomach, I had to at least give it a try.

I picked up a spoon and dug it into the side of the molded food. The texture was similar to what my mom made, which was rather surprising. Cheese stretched as I placed a chunk on my plate, then tried to detach the strands.

"Looks good," she commented.

"Do you want to help me eat it?" I asked.

"As long as you try it first, I will gladly have some."

"All right then," I agreed. "Let's go find a table to sit down at before I puke."