All we wanted was a peaceful night out, nothing fancy—just a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant in the heart of the city. The place was charming, filled with the warm scent of fresh cuisine and soft background music, creating the perfect setting to unwind after a long day. My friend and I were catching up, enjoying the ambiance and looking forward to a relaxing meal. She decided to order a salad with avocado and quinoa, something light and refreshing that matched the calm vibe of the evening.
When the dish arrived, it looked fresh and appetizing, beautifully arranged with vibrant greens, creamy avocado slices, and what appeared to be a sprinkle of chia seeds or a dark seasoning on top. But just as she was about to take her first bite, she suddenly froze mid-motion, fork suspended in the air, and stared intensely at the plate. “Do you see that?” she asked, her voice uneasy as she pointed to the topping. I leaned in, expecting to see something harmless—a piece of cilantro or maybe too much pepper—but what I saw made my stomach drop.
The tiny black specks covering the salad weren’t seasoning at all. They were moving. What looked like seeds were, in fact, small, translucent blobs with dark centers—some kind of insect eggs—spread across the dish. The realization hit us hard. Insects had laid eggs right there on the food. First came the shock, then panic. We immediately pushed the plate away and flagged down the staff, who rushed over, alarmed and apologetic. But we weren’t about to wait for a restaurant explanation. We were terrified—unsure of what type of insect had left those eggs, and whether my friend had already ingested any. In a moment of fear and urgency, we called an ambulance. My friend began to feel nauseous, possibly from the stress or just the horror of the situation. Once we arrived at the hospital, the staff acted quickly.
They ran tests, examined a sample from the plate, and provided medication as a precaution against any possible illness or allergic reaction. While they didn’t identify the exact species, they advised us to keep an eye on our symptoms over the next few days. Thankfully, nothing serious developed, but that didn’t make the experience any less traumatic. We filed a formal complaint with the restaurant, demanding a full investigation and explanation.
The restaurant management responded with apologies and vague excuses, blaming the incident on “spoiled ingredients” from a supplier or a “technical oversight.” Regardless of the cause, the damage was done. After something like that, trust is broken. It’s impossible to eat out without questioning every detail, without scrutinizing every bite. The mental image of that plate still lingers. Since that night, every time I see chia seeds or any dark garnish on a dish, I pause. My brain immediately flashes back to that moment—the translucent spheres, the tiny movements, the feeling of dread. What was meant to be a quiet, pleasant dinner became one of the most unsettling experiences of our lives. It wasn’t just about the food—it was the violation of trust, the loss of confidence in a place meant to provide comfort and care. Even now, weeks later, I can’t look at a salad the same way. I inspect every detail, question every speck, and avoid anything that even remotely resembles those haunting little eggs. It’s a reminder that even in the most routine moments, things can go horribly wrong. And while we were fortunate that our health wasn’t affected, the emotional impact is lasting. That night, a simple dinner turned into a nightmare, and it’s something we’ll never forget.
