HIAB: I'd like to say beforehand that I mean no disrespect to any establishments. We went out looking for a bad time and we found one; this is not to say that any of the places we went suck inherently. That said...

This is one of those tasks that hurt surprisingly much to do.

Dok H and I set out one fine afternoon to find some places we really didn't want to go. It was a nice day, so we began indoors, in the skyway system above downtown Minneapolis. We adopted a policy of seeing our choices at every intersection, and choosing the one that appealed to us the least. The problem here, which quickly became apparent, was that, while this attitude certainly didn't cause us to be entertained, it made for some rather boring walking. "Oh look, this way there are some museums, that way there is an unlabeled hallway." We headed down a lot of unlabeled hallways, through a stairway, around a parking garage, and outside onto Nicollet Mall. Along the way I saw some dumpsters and made sure to get a good whiff. Gag.

At this point we were both becoming rather hungry, so we intentionally started avoiding restaurants. There are a lot of restaurants in this area of Minneapolis, so this forced us back indoors and into the skyway. We were about ready to give up this task when we saw a sign: listed as being ahead of us was an establishment called Rock Bottom.

We had to hit that.

It turned out to be the Rock Bottom Brewery, a bar/dining establishment not dissimilar to Outback Steakhouse in style.

HIAB: This is probably overpriced.
DokH: Yeah, and we're supposed to be avoiding restaurants.
HIAB: I doubt they have many vegetarian options.
DokH: I really don't want to go here.
Both: Shit.

Dok H: Yeah. I proceeded to try to avoid it by mentioning that I really didn't want to pay for an overpriced lunch just for a task... and then we looked at each other and got back on the escalator down to it. After all, given what we were doing this was hardly a reason not to eat there.

HIAB had also remarked that while we wanted to eat, this wasn't the sort of restaurant that appealed to him. It wasn't exactly my choice either.

And yes, it was your classic too-dark low-end-American-cuisine sit-down restaurant, but with presumably good beer. I say presumably because my desire to try their rauchbier (I've wanted to taste one for a while) kept me from getting anything to drink other than water.

HIAB: So in we went. The booths looked cosy, so we sat at the bar, underneath a giant flatscreen TV showing some sports thingy. The bartender gave us menus. I never drink anything other than water at restaurants, so I got some non-alcoholic thingy called a "Peachy-jito" that had mint and peach in it and no price listed on the menu. It was very sweet, though not bad. As expected, all the entrees were priced at more than we were happy to spend.

As both DokH and I are native North Carolinians, when he saw the pulled pork barbecue on the menu we knew he was going to have to get it, to see just how horribly they'd ruined it. He likes a little cole slaw on his sandwich but doesn't care for it on its own, so he got it on the side. Myself, well, I've been a vegetarian for seven years now, so I stuck to the meat-filled section of the menu. I decided on the Classic Mac & Cheese with Chicken, in an attempt to ruin one of my favorite foods for myself by adding meat to it.

The food came. At this point, I think we'd actually started to warp our minds with all this methodical gainsaying of our desires. Everything and everyone I saw looked like it had a disgusting patina over it. I smelled the chicken and gagged. I dug in. The chicken was tough and the cheese sauce was watery. I took a break. I nibbled at my Caesar salad (another thing I dislike is Caesar dressing). I looked at the Doktor. He was grimacing as much as I was at his sandwich. "There's no vinegar in this sauce at all."

Dok H: As anyone around us, especially JJason, can tell you, I need very little provocation to complain about northerners and their attempts at barbecue. I expected an excuse to go off on the same tired rant about how even when they know what they're aiming for they can't quite get it right... but honestly that isn't what I got. The meat was cooked perfectly - tender, slow-roasted pork - and that's the part people mess up the most often. Sure, most add a bit too much tomato or a bit too much molasses to the sauce, which should properly have cider vinegar as its main ingredient, but getting the meat right and still not understanding what to do with it takes talent. The visual clue is, of course, that the meat was cut into large chunks rather than finely chopped... but the fact that the flavor tasted more like sloppy joes than anything else was still a real shock. And the perfect sort of shock for this task.

As HIAB has mentioned, I'm not a big fan of slaw. I don't like most vegetables, but slaw isn't so bad - it's got nothing inherently wrong with it, but at the same time there's little to recommend it. On a barbecue sandwich it adds a delightful bit of crunch, though, which is why I had it served on the side. When I had finished my meal, HIAB asked how the slaw was... and I realized I hadn't touched it. So I took a bite and gagged a tiny bit. On closer inspection this is because one ingredient that isn't normally in cole slaw had shocked my palate: cucumber.

I fucking hate cucumber.

HIAB: I returned to shoveling flaccid pasta into my mouth. It became a rhythm: dip fork, open mouth, insert fork, gag, swallow. Repeat.

I couldn't finish it. We got the check and I headed to the bathroom. The toilets were clogged, of course. We walked out.

HIAB: You should go back in there and take a photograph of the clogged toilet.
DokH: No, I don't want to do that. I'm done with this task.

So we were. We headed to the Spyhouse and got drinks. Happy ending!