Every now and then, while perusing the frozen dinner section of the grocery store, I'll stumble across an entree that has fish in it. "Ooo," I'll think to myself, "salmon with orzo, carrots, and spinach? Don't mind if I do!"
This is ALWAYS a mistake. And I fall for it all. the. time.
How to describe the flavor ... hmm ... ok. Imagine you have a tank of seamonkeys. They entertain you for about 15 minutes, but then a House marathon comes on and you forget all about them. The tank is in an obscure corner of your house, and hey, TNT is showing Law & Order all day long, so you forget about your seamonkeys. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, babies are born, people get married, people who met on eharmony go on awkward first dates and never speak again.
Eventually, the water in the seamonkey tank evaporates.
One day, you have a little soiree wherein people get their booze on. One such disciple of Bacchus stumbles upon your long-forgotten seamonkey haven. He picks up the tank, turns it around in his hands a few times, postulates on how big a clump he could make by peeing in a litter box, and licks the inside of the tank.
This is exactly how these frozen fish entrees taste. Briney, confusing, distressing. The taste isn't just limited to the fish, either, oh no! The polluted ocean taste infiltrates all aspects of the meal - even if you pick out the fish, it will still taste like you are drinking the salt water in your chosen body of water after an oil spill. I end up dumping about half a bottle of hot sauce over what remains to make it somewhat bearable. I am convinced that eating these will give me cancer. And yet, every now and then, I am still tricked into buying one! Why is this? Blind hope? I suppose so.
Then again, if you slap "spa cuisine" on anything, it sounds pretty freaking tasty.
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