Lunch was a phenomenal piece of chicken and tomato pizza from Maffei’s. It may have been better than the one I had from Two Boots last night (Cool Mum will likely chastise me later for all of the pizza-eating).
One moment before devouring my slice today: I noticed a hair-thin string of what I thought was cheese. And then I realized that it may have been hair-thin because it was a hair. I put the thought out of my mind and went about my business of eating. However, the inspiration for this deeply moving blog post was already set in motion.
What do you do when you find a hair (not yours) in your food?
Related posts:
If I’m sure it’s a hair and I’m sure it’s not mine (or that of anyone with me) I send it back. An exception would be if I’m nearly finished with the meal, then I just stop eating and try not to think about it.
Sorry if this post brought up all of the times that you found a hair and tried to purge it from your memory.
I completely flip out! Get grossed out…send it back and pretty much refuse to eat anything else from that restaurant. Ever.
Are there restaurants that have only bald kitchen and wait staff? If not, there should be.
Brave souls indeed. Sending it back is always something I think of with great trepidation! I never want to insult someone who can secretly strike back at me.
For me, I remove the hair and proceed trying to balance vigilance and forgetfulness. I’m sure that I’m weird in more than only this, though.