Last night, I made my way to Cesar in Berkeley, CA’s “Gourmet Ghetto.” After surveying the critically acclaimed menu known for its Spanish tapas, I decided on a bocadillo of “Manchego and greens” to which I fortuitously  added Jamon Serrano. Now, I’m the kind of guy that loves Manchego and Jamon Serrano as much as Hernan Cortes enjoys pillaging an indigenous population, so you could imagine my excitement when the server complimented my request. Accompanied by a Grey Goose Martini, I waited in anticipation for the entree as my mouth began to salivate. Several minutes passed and the waiter returned with my sandwich. Once placed before me, I noticed something horribly odd about the bocadillo. The so-called “greens” were, in fact, a Popeye sized lump of sauteed spinach. I took one bite and promptly placed the stringy pound-and-a-half of vegetation on the sidelines. After all, I anticipated a sandwich full of Spanish goodness. What I got instead was a mound of Done Here, Buddy.

With flavors as delicate as Manchego and Jamon Serrano, one might expect a simple salad of mixed greens gently tossed with a balsamic vinaigrette ... Not a pile of poopy Done Here.