Hooray, you’re on the list. Take this buzzer, stand across the street in that puddle, and wait for a little shock. The estimated wait time is six hours. And don’t be surprised if we’re not here when your table is called. We could be anywhere at any time. However, we’re usually near the morgue.
What’s our name? It depends. Our food truck is called Eat Pray Cramp Vomit. Our counter at the food hall is called Le Coli. Our online delivery service is called Dysentery. Our insufferable pop-up? It’s difficult to pronounce. It’s all consonants and diacritical marks. Along with some gagging and sputtering.
No, no, we don’t kill our patrons. Not intentionally. Although we have had some losses. Who hasn’t? Unlike other food collectives, we’ve learned to embrace our mortality rate. It’s part of our ambience. Our joie de vivre! Chef Claire says that a high propensity for death elevates the palate. Until it doesn’t.
Unfortunately, there are no paper menus. Scan this QR code. The link will take you to OpenTable, and then Facebook, and then TripAdvisor, and finally 4chan, where you can download a PDF. The menu is a thirty-nine-page instruction manual on how to kill yourself with a fork.
What type of food do we serve? French-inspired. Comfort Food. Farm-to-table. Fusion. Fission. Highly radioactive. But mostly we serve tacos. Tacos from every nation. Ugandan tacos. Burmese tacos. Yugoslav tacos. What’s inside the tacos? Chef’s choice. Just don’t expect rice and beans. If you want Mexican, order the crepe.
Ready to be seated? Is your entire party here? Cold feet? It happens. Have you eaten with us before? No? That’s fine. Nobody has. Any food allergies? We like to keep track. Would you prefer to sit inside or outside? Near the fire escape? In the median? On the train tracks? Oops, watch your step. Just walk over him.
Our specialty? Chef Claire’s signature dish is Chicken Boom Boom. Braised organic chicken on a bed of fried risotto, layered with black bean ragout, arsenic-laced Cheerios, roasted summer squash, Cool Ranch Doritos, and a meat cleaver at high velocity. Gluten-free available.
Do we have a permit? Certainly not. We’re creatives. We refuse to be dictated to by outmoded institutions like the health department. But don’t fret, the city loves us. We’ve created a buzz among the hipster class. By thinning their numbers, we’re performing a valuable service. Even the mayor thanked us. And yet he still refuses to eat here.
Having trouble deciding? Why not choose the prix fixe? You’ll get an appetizer, a small plate, a choking hazard, a skewer, salmonella, and a macaroon. We’ll see how far you get. The cost is $875. Upfront. If you’re left unsatisfied, we’ll conk you on the head.
Sorry, no peeking in the kitchen. Have you seen The Bear? It’s like that. Except a real bear. And instead of calling each other chef, we call each other death. “Good evening, death.” “Good morning, death.” “Is that knife sharp, death?” “Can we fit more bodies in the cooler, death?” “Stop screaming, death.”
Voila. Your entrée has arrived. Wait, wait, give it a minute. Let the food breathe. Meditate on your ensuing culinary journey. It may be your last. Also, the plate may be hot. And Eugene, our food photographer, must take a pic. Here he comes now. Photos will be posted tomorrow. For next of kin.
Need something to chase it down? A bougie cocktail? Excellent. We’ve partnered with a boutique mixologist across the street. See that white van with no windows? Don’t be afraid, wander over. The most popular cocktail is a Singapore Noose. It contains absinthe, rye whiskey, Kool-Aid, lemon zest, and Fruit Loops, muddled with rat poison. There will be separate checks.
Why, you’ve hardly touched your meal. Hoping for something less groundbreaking? Less dire? Life? Let us make you a doggy bag. No, no, we insist. But please, don’t feed this to your dog. We love animals.
Do I hear sirens? Is that the police? Sorry, everyone, we’re cutting dinner short. Time to pack up. Check our socials. Chef Claire has planned future insufferable pop-ups in a toxic waste dump, an active war zone, and Brooklyn.
Don’t bother making reservations. We’ll fit you in.
