The Delicious Human Garden

The Delicious Human Garden

Experience Reviewed on star-date 3125.67

By Tanish Kallanos, Renown-Level Advisor

Reader, should you find yourself traveling through the Omega Quadrant (which I would advise against, generally), please avoid the Omega 43 Station and in particular the eatery known as the Delicious Human Garden, which I review here. This dining chain of questionable merit is found in many human stations. I cannot imagine the other locations would be better than my experience, but I can only judge my own experiences. This past night I woke up in a cold sweat just thinking of it; the membrane coating my arms became sensitive to the touch as it vibrated in stress. It was nearly impossible to fall back asleep in my cryo-cocoon. It may come across that I harbor a grudge against this dining location, but please know that I do not. As a matter of fact, I pride myself on the accuracy and reliability of my reviews. I base all of my reviews upon consistent, objective criteria and I balance these criteria with my own subjective experiences. It should also be noted that I bear no ill-will against humans whatsoever. Granted, I find that if they do not bathe for extended periods of time they develop an unpleasant musky, sweaty odor not unlike a mushroom… but apart from hygiene concerns I have found them pleasant enough. So no, I do not write out of spite or hatred or prejudice; I merely attempt to be of assistance.

I believe context is important to understanding any topic, and thus, I will give a brief description of my state of mind and experiences upon arriving at Station Omega 43.

Upon docking at the station, I was already desperately in need of some freshly made cuisine. I had been in my cryo-cocoon for months, and thus I had just undergone the defreezing rituals. For any who are unfamiliar with extended space flight, this is the process by which one cleans out the cryo-fluids which fill the system during stasis. The most important and unpleasant step in this process is ingestion of amnetic fluid: a viscous, tasteless ooze which only slowly makes its way down one’s gullet. It is hard to describe, but it is like swallowing something akin to thick water or to a pure, tasteless mucus. It must be done slowly, to allow the substance to thoroughly coat one’s entire digestive system. Ingesting the amnetic fluid too quickly may fail to remove all of the cryo-fluids, leading to terrible digestion for weeks. I will spare the reader further details of the cleansing process, but suffice it to say that upon completion of the process one feels thoroughly empty, and in desperate need of quality sustenance. I did of course have my hard tack rations, but ingesting the dry, crumbly rations directly after ingesting amnetic fluid is like throwing a handful of dusty pebbles into a sensitive orifice. I craved real food. It was in this state of desperation that I entered Station Omega 43.

           It should also be noted that Station Omega 43 is itself a poor excuse for a galactic-quality space station. The humans operating the station are not dangerous to a species as powerful as the Tellurites, but like any of the inferior galactic races, they are unmotivated, inefficient, and uninspired. Station 43 was typically human: a bright steel box, almost hostile-looking in its excessively plain, functional design. As I exited my vessel and made my way through the customs process, the customs humans took extensive, laborious time as they slowly inspected my belongings. I waited for nearly an eighth of a cycle in a cramped steel room where I was asked a long series of inane and useless questions. Worse, I had to endure the questioning from a sweaty, hairy man named Carl who exuded greasy, sweaty scents which seemed to quickly fill the tiny room and made it difficult to breathe. I wondered if the humans were intending to torture me, but with my stomach empty I felt miserable and helpless.

After exiting customs, I arrived in a merchant quarter full of bright lights and neon signs and advertisements. My eyes struggled to adjust to the garish bright lights and I had to close my secondary eyes due to their increased sensitivity. Store after store lined the hallway, filled with useless knick-knacks and worthless doo-daas, and my ears were filled with the shouts of human vendors and the constant digital advertisements playing on loop. Needless to say I did not stop, as in my experience humans rarely sell anything worth buying. In all my travels, I have met no other race which spends so much time and effort attempting to make awful, unconscionable piles of garbage appear as if they are a hoard of priceless artifacts.

The Garden itself is located in an eating zone where the scents of various cuisines competed against one another for supremacy. My nasal senses felt almost claustrophobic as if walls of spices and grease were trying to smother me. I learned the humans call this a ‘food court.’ I understand the reference to food, but why it refers to a court is lost on me. I have myself been to the High Court of King Ozmandiapole and its beautiful, plant-lined rooms populated by well-perfumed Tellurites bore little resemblance to this sticky-floored, human-infested sea of unpleasant sensations. Nevertheless, my need for sustenance was great, and I pride myself on my ability to make the best of a non-optimal situation. So, I pressed onwards.

The Delicious Human Garden was one of the least offensive odorous locations, which was a primary reason I chose it instead of a competing option. Two other locations I found oppressive as I made my way through the gauntlet of the ‘food court.’ First was the ‘House of Spice’ where the scents of various war-crime level chemicals invaded my orifices. I fled this location immediately. Another location served a food known as ‘pizza,’ which based on the smells seemed to mostly serve grease. I felt as if my sensory apparatus had been shoved into Carl’s hairy armpit directly. I might have un-digested there on the floor, but as my stomach was empty. The Garden was the least offensive of the options presented, and so I entered.

The Garden was appointed nicely, in fact much nicer than many of the other locations in this ‘food court.’ Its decor resembled the humble country estate of a poor but proud merchant farmer. Many plants and human foliage lined the walls and tables which I found charming (though I later discovered the plants were merely plastic reproductions). I also thought the ‘garden’ description was promising. I longed for the sweet squish of ripe fruits and the refreshing crunch of fresh vegetables. I have eaten human vegetables in the past and found them to be quite adequate. I have never understood their love for eating expired animal carcasses, but knowing the humans were omnivores I believed a ‘garden’ to be the perfect location to find the sort of cuisine which I could appreciate.

Upon entering, a human server revealed the small white bones of her mouth to me. To Tellurians less well-traveled as myself, I should point out that when humans make this gesture it is not a threat, but a greeting. I replied in the human manner by taking a long bow, bending at mid-torso. Luckily, she found a table of sufficient size to accommodate me (as the humans, being creatures of only four limbs and rarely more than six feet in height, typically only sit in small, cramped tables). After being seated, however, I was horrified to find that after placing an appendage on the table, my membrane remained attached to the table as I pulled it away; the table was sticky with some foreign substance! This was of course unacceptable, and the humans sent a small man to clean the table with a damp rag of suspiciously grey water. I believe this only made the table more unsanitary than it was previously. A new human female bared her teeth to me and informed me that she was called ‘Jenny.’ I demanded a five course meal without any deceased animal carcasses. She informed me they did typically serve two initial courses, but that beyond that they did not have a prepared menu, even though I believed this to be a proper restaurant. Jenny referred me to a screen with an incomprehensible list of human scribbles. My universal translator merely translated this nonsense into other kinds of gibberish, so I gave up on attempting to decipher this ‘menu’ and demanded a five course menu based on whatever dishes are popular and appropriate in a human garden. She mentioned the word ‘pasta’ which my universal translator informed me was a grain-based substance boiled in water. It sounded inoffensive enough, and Jenny agreed to bring me a five course menu. I review them here:

COURSE 1: SALAD. The meal started with disappointment. While I was excited to taste some traditional human foliage, the plant leaves which should have been crisp and crunchy were wilted and sad, and the few bits of sliced vegetables were covered in altogether too much of a smooth, slimy oil. It was, in a word, disappointing.

COURSE 2: BREADSTICKS. I was assaulted by the smell of these before even setting eyes on them. They were long cylindrical sticks of human style bread… but covered in a slick greasy substance which smelled overwhelmingly of the rendered fats of deceased animals. Just as I was about to protest their presence at my table, Jenny informed me that if they came back and the basket was empty, they would bring more: endlessly! At the time that sounded like a threat, though I realize now the human Jenny believed that she was being helpful.

COURSE 3: TOASTED RAVIOLI. I am unsure even how to categorize this dish. It consisted of squares of boiled pasta that were cooked in such a way as to give them hard brown edges. The squares contained a passable mix of crushed leaves and crushed cooked cheese, and the whole thing was drowned in a tasteless sauce of crushed tomatoes. I did ingest all of the crushed tomatoes if for no other reason than to coat my empty stomach with something that resembled actual food.

COURSE 4: FETTUCINI ALFREDO. I was told this was the single best seller at the Garden. It was a pasta of long tendrils that had been flopped into a puddle of white fatty cheese slime. Desperate, I slurped one of the long, thin pasta tendrils, and it wiggled down my throat. At this I looked around surprised. My translator had been clear as to the meaning of a ‘garden’ and the plant décor seemed to confirm the meaning, and yet the food here seemed hardly deserving of the term. What kind of garden grew wriggling tentacles covered in cheesy slime?

COURSE 5: CHOCOLATE LAVA CAKE SURPRISE. I was informed this was a human delicacy. The sharply fatty, sugary chocolate cake substance was… initially quite enjoyable. It was a baked bread substance, covered in a heavy sugary spread made of beans called chocolate. I began to enjoy it, only to find- to my horror- that I had been made a fool of! On my second bite, my utensil penetrated the center and a liquid poured from it almost as if I had penetrated an egg or unleashed a tiny black waterfall. Curious, I put the liquid to my mouth only to find it was heated to a ludicrous degree, burning my ingesting orifice. It was as if I had dared to taste the tears of the fire god Shmaluzek himself!

Horrified at this betrayal, I launched the offensive dish at my betrayer, Jenny, as soon as she emerged into view. As she screamed, I pushed my appendages out of my seating area and left this pitiful excuse for a ‘garden.’

Reader, should you find yourself in a human ‘food court’ unsure what to consume, do not let your translator fool you into thinking that a human ‘garden’ is anything of the sort. However, do not despair! Should you find yourself in Omega Station 43 behind the Delicious Human Garden I was fortunate enough to find a Tellurian vendor who sold bags of pillurmites and nautilites! I consumed bag after bag of the crunchy sweet insects, and relished their delightful squirming. I could feel my stomach swell with joy from the sustenance of fresh, proper food. Just as I relished my victory however, my senses were again assaulted by a familiar invasive greasy musk: Carl! He had returned with another one of the customs officer humans. They demanded I actually pay for the food from the disgusting ‘Delicious Human Garden’! The gall of asking me to pay them after their insults and pranks! But now, however, it was Carl’s turn to experience the fury of a Tellurian wronged, with the strength of a full belly!