So, you walk in to a Mongolian BBQ, are seated and handed a bowl. You get up and head for the buffet where you fill said bowl with raw meat, vegetables, and oddly placed rotini pasta. You try not to touch the raw bits of NY Strip Steak that cover most of the the plastic tongs, and consider whether or not broccoli goes with pineapple. You possibly add an egg, and are then presented with a table of spices and sauces. While deciding between Pad Thai sauce and Kung Pao, you wonder what Fajita sauce and Marinara are doing in what appeared to be some kind of Asian fusion restaurant. Anyway, cup of Sweet and Sour in hand, you head to the grill, staffed by relatively but not terribly attractive men. One dumps your bowl on the grill, and pours the sauce on top. As he does this, you realize you've over-sauced. You also realize your hands are sticky, so you grab one of the provided wet wipes to clean any raw meat and Tangy Asian Black Bean sauce off your hands--just like the Mongols under the Mighty Khan.
Then you return to your table, make sure your purse is still there, and at this point, aren't surprised to find hot tortillas in addition to rice. You scoop the rice on your plate, and dump the bowl on top. Suspicions of over-saucing are confirmed, but all in all, it's not terrible. After thinking about it for a moment, you realize what it tastes like: something you made yourself. Why? Because you did. And that's not the point of a restaurant.
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