The cuisine, being quite a conglomeration of foods I both adore and abhor, glares up from the pale foam platter it lay on. I cannot quite decide whether or not the meal as a whole appeals to me in any unironic way. The cookies — two, this time (I was fortunate enough to have the server bless me with an extra) — sit desecrated beside the dubious loaf of meat and mediocre wedges of barely-fried potato.