With Sick You Get Eggroll

You’d think I’d know better by now.

My friends had suggested a Chinese restaurant in Troy I had often passed but never visited, and I thought “eh, what the heck?” There I was, chatting with my friends and sneaking glances at the creepy tentaculos de pulpo the chef was chopping on a nearby table, when along came lunch –  and with it, an eggroll.

(Cue Ominous Violins of Foreshadowing™)

It should be noted here that I enjoy spring rolls. They are delicious, even if they are fried, and although I purposely limit my consumption of them to once or twice a year in the interest of, you know, NOT DYING, I do enjoy them.

Eggrolls, however, are a different story. Eggrolls, like almost everything else that is fried in Chinese cooking, contain pork. I would qualify this as a generalized statement, not to be taken literally, blah, blah, blah, but it’s true. I ordered the Fried Duck with Melon once and there was a pig ear inside, like a bristle-tufted slip of paper inside a crispy avian Fortune Cookie.

OK, not really. But seriously, the only people who cook with more pork than the Chinese are the Cubans, and even then I’d call it a toss-up.

But I digress. The piggy point to which I am alluding so ambiguously is that I am allergic to pork. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve got a meat allergy. I can eat a spare tire or an old shoe without ill effects, but slip a little ham in my beans and it’s off to Pukeytown (located several miles outside Funkytown, without any of the charm but with a lot more visitors each year).

I inherited this allergy from my maternal grandmother, and over time, I’ve managed to build up a resistance to bacon. Two or three pieces will not kill me or make me vomit, but ham or sausage sends the bus right back to Pukeytown like my sister when we go to the store and she forgets her keys, which is to say EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Ahem.

Anyway, I was hungry, I was freaked out by Mr. Choppy and his table full of octopus bits, and I was distracted by the decor, which was somewhere between Asian Whorehouse and Small-Town Cafe.  So, without thinking, I chomped that mother down with complete abandon, even stopping at one point to say “This is delicious! I haven’t had an eggroll in FOREVER.”

Gee, I wonder why, genius?

At any rate, later in the day (like, an hour later), things started to get bad. I will not bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that I missed some work this week.

All that’s behind me now, I’m happy to say (insert your own allergic-reaction pun here). In the future, however, I have pledged that no matter how disturbing the decor, no matter how deliciously greasy and alluring the mysterious tube of cuisine is, I shall be vigilant to (and labor to avoid) the risks of deadly pork.

Until, you know, the next time I do something stupid.

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5 Responses

  1. Such an unfortunate allergy! Pig is the tastiest of all animals, IMO. And eggrolls are mighty fine. So tragic.

  2. I know how you feel. If so much as set foot in an Applebee’s I spend the rest of the day making frequent and extended bathroom breaks.

    And the burn…don’t get me started on the burn…

    Pork is my least favorite meat. I LOVE beef in all of it’s un-ground forms.

  3. That’ll do pig, that’ll do.

    –or–

    Spider Pig, Spider Pig
    Does whatever a Spider Pig does
    Can he swing? From a web?
    No he can’t
    He’s a pig.
    Look out, he is the Spider Pig

  4. […] Yes, I had dreams, kids – dreams I still managed to fulfill, despite the aftermath of an accidental ingestion of  pork, the other death meat. […]

  5. @Sra: Yeah, that’s what I hear. I remember pork chops…I miss them so.

    @Trovan: I get sick if I enter Applebee’s, but I don’t have to eat anything for that to happen.

    @Sov: HA! “That’ll do pig” STILL kills when I tell it. Seriously, it’s my go-to food story at parties.

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