Iced Tea Redux

In my last post before this year's sudden revival, I excoriated Schlotzky's for their failure to maintain the art of iced tea. My disappointment and frustration with that situation created a deep chasm I dared not cross, and I did not visit the restaurant for close to a year. I did not care how delicious were their sandwiches or their crispy potato slices covered in cracked black pepper, I was heartbroken and betrayed.

After a period of time, my wife coaxed me back through the doors one Sunday afternoon. I was not looking forward to it, but resolved that I would find something suitable to drink. Imagine my surprise when I turned to discover the absence of the mechanical monstrosity. In place of the pretender, the genuine article presented itself. As I opened the spout above my waiting cup, I watched with intense pleasure as the richly hued, vibrant elixir fill my cup. The exile was over, chasm bridged; it was like going home again.

After returning to this space earlier in the year, I have been pricked by the thought of amending my previous stance. I owed it to my dear friend, Schlotzky's, to retract my previous statements in light of their recommitment to quality. How to do it, though? Could I simply write a one-line "all's well" and be done with it. That didn't seem proper. Yet, the words for a more involved exposition never arrived. Procrastination and neglect were unfair; I needed to say something even if the sentiment was not perfectly executed.

Unfortunately, to do so now feels a bit awkward. For, you see, I had a visit with Schlotzky's today that didn't go so well. No, there wasn't a reappearance of the science-experiment-gone-wrong. Indeed, things appeared much as they have for the past several months. The drink station itself is a bit of an ergonomic disaster (the only way to get ice is to queue up behind everyone deciding which of 106 drink combinations feel right that day), but workable. Ice acquired, I filled my cup from the tea spigot as usual. My disappointment began when I took a sip, and then another to confirm. It was weak and flavorless; not the worst I've experienced at all, but not the usual standard. I would like to know how such things come to pass. Was it an error of a new employee, unaccustomed to standards? Is there a new sense of economy in the kitchen that has created the delusion that tea bags can be used more than once? What series of mistakes led to this lowly state?

Despite my disappointment today, I believe there is allowance to be made. The sin today is not so egregious as to drive me away. My mind filled with questions such as those posed above, I cannot view it as a trend. I will be back in the near future, and I hope to see improvement. For now, however, I must hold back on making any final peace reconciling previous statements to more recent experience. Should that much hoped for improvement be seen, I will make amends as are appropriate.