Not in some exotic country with some obscure delicacy. Nope - but in Columbus, Ohio.
Our hotel offered complimentary continental breakfast. We decided it would be a good idea to eat up before the game.
It was a nice spread. Along with fruit, yogurt, and a scone, I found a big pot of oatmeal. I used the giant ladle to make myself a bowl. It was a little thick, so I went over to the cereal station to add a little milk. Then I took a container of honey for sweetener, just in case.
I mixed it up. I tasted it. It wasn't oatmeal.
"Honey," I said. "This isn't oatmeal."
"Yeah. It's like... cream soup. With little bits of meat in it. Cream of... breakfast sausage??"
"Maybe it's an Ohio thing."
I ate a few more spoonfuls before setting it aside. Later, I asked Sarah about it. She had no idea, until:
"Was it... gravy?"
The scone wasn't a scone. It was a biscuit. And I had eaten half a bowl of gravy for breakfast. (It honestly never occurred to me that people eat biscuits & gravy for breakfast. And the gravy was white!)
And for a final kick of irony: I went to the breakfast buffet the next morning to take a picture (so that I could retell this story) but this time, the pot actually did contain oatmeal!
|You can tell because of the brown sugar and raisins.|