When I was three, we went to Disneyland and stayed in a hotel that offered room service. And thus it begins. My mother ordered the cheapest item on the menu to help tide my little rumbly tumbly over (a bagel and cream cheese), and I was completely enchanted. For the remainder of the stay, I encouraged my mother to “call that nice man who brought me food.” To my knowledge, she didn’t give in, but the stage was set for my relationship with room service.
Over the years, I’ve probably ordered only a handful of room service food items. Whenever my mother and I stayed at the Little America, we would order the most delicious breakfast on the menu; scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, and these bran muffins that had caramelized pecans on the bottoms and were served upside down. And once, when my best friend, Rachel, left me in the parking garage of a hotel, trying to figure out how I’d get back to my apartment an hour and a half away, I just headed up to the room and ordered a fruit and cheese platter. And I ate it all.
When Husband and I got married, we honeymooned at the Oregon coast. The weather was characteristically cold, rainy, and windy, so we spent most of our time indoors, which turned out to be not such a bum deal because our lodging was probably the nicest I’ve ever stayed in. Each morning we sampled almost everything from their continental breakfast buffet (which was less like a hotel breakfast and more like a five-star restaurant experience) and would brave the bad weather in the evenings, trying to find the best clam chowder in the area. But one evening we were simply disinterested in going out and decided to order room service. We decided upon a salad made of greens, strawberries, grapes, pears, and Oregonzola, a fruit platter, and two sandwiches. I opted for the ham, while Husband decided, after perusing the entire menu, that he really wanted to find out what an eight dollar peanut butter & jelly sandwich would taste like. I anticipated that it would taste pretty much akin to say, a two dollar pb&j, except with better bread. When our order arrived, I am pleased to report that I was absolutely correct in my assumption, but I will say that for a pb&j, it was pretty delicious. And that’s coming from someone who hates pb&j.