All we wanted was a quiet, relaxing dinner. Nothing extravagant—just a peaceful evening in a charming city-center restaurant with good food, soft music, and a chance to unwind. The atmosphere was just right, with the aroma of freshly cooked meals wafting through the air and gentle music playing in the background. My friend ordered a healthy avocado and quinoa salad, something light and refreshing to cap off the day.
The dish looked perfect when it arrived—colorful, vibrant, and beautifully presented. But just as she lifted her fork for the first bite, she stopped midair, her expression shifting from content to concerned. “Do you see that?” she asked, pointing to something on the salad. At first glance, the surface of the dish seemed to be sprinkled with what looked like chia seeds or some dark, trendy garnish. We leaned in for a closer look, initially brushing it off as some sort of seasoning. But then the reality hit us—those weren’t seeds. They were moving. What we were looking at were tiny, almost translucent orbs with black centers. And they were very much alive. These were insect eggs, right there on top of the fresh salad.
The shock froze us for a moment, and then panic took over. We shoved the plate away and immediately called for help. Waiters came rushing over, trying to assess the situation and offer explanations, but by that point we had already called for an ambulance. Our minds were racing—we didn’t know what kind of insect had laid those eggs, or whether any had been consumed. My friend, visibly shaken, began feeling nauseous, either from the fear or sheer revulsion. We weren’t going to take any chances. Once we arrived at the hospital, the medical team treated the situation seriously.
They ran a series of tests, examined the food sample we brought, and prescribed medication as a precaution. We were told to monitor for symptoms such as fever, stomach pain, or allergic reactions, and were assured that while it was alarming, things would likely be fine. Still, the psychological toll had already set in. We couldn’t shake the image from our minds. We filed a formal complaint against the restaurant, demanding answers and accountability. The management responded with a mix of vague apologies and attempts to deflect responsibility. They blamed it on a “supplier issue” or a “technical mistake,” saying some of the produce might have come in contaminated.
But honestly, no amount of apologies or free meal vouchers could undo what happened. The sense of betrayal we felt—of sitting down at a supposedly reputable restaurant and being served something so horrifying—was impossible to ignore. Since that night, my entire relationship with food has shifted, especially salads. Every time I see chia seeds or anything that even remotely resembles those little black specks, my stomach tightens. I find myself examining dishes under the light, prodding at ingredients with my fork before daring to take a bite. It’s not about being overly dramatic—it’s just that once you’ve seen insect eggs on your dinner plate, it’s hard to go back to eating without suspicion. What started as a calm, ordinary dinner turned into a full-blown nightmare that ended with a hospital visit and a lasting sense of distrust. The incident became a vivid reminder that even in comfortable, familiar settings, things can go horribly wrong. And while the physical health scare turned out to be manageable, the emotional scar still lingers. I’ve learned that food safety isn’t just about temperature or expiration dates—it’s also about vigilance, hygiene, and the responsibility that restaurants have to protect their guests. What happened to us should never happen to anyone else, and while we try to laugh about it now, deep down, that dinner forever changed the way we look at what’s on our plates.
