Rendell gives notorious cafeteria the ‘all clear’

HARRISBURG - First came the bomb-sniffing (or was it mouse-sniffing?) dogs. Then Gov. Rendell and his small entourage came gliding down the escalator in the east wing of the Capitol and stepped into the breach - of reporters and camera crews.

"As the ancient gladiators said, 'those of us who are about to die salute you,' " Rendell quipped for the TV cameras before heading to lunch Friday in the Capitol cafeteria.

And with that he entered the much-maligned and sparsely populated eatery, stopping at each food station to survey the offerings and helping himself to free samples of fried chicken tenders.

The governor's visit was less about dining than a general's show of confidence that the rations, doled out to thousands of diners - lawmakers, government employees and visitors - each year are safe.

The restaurant reopened Monday after being ordered closed for two weeks following a abysmal inspection results last month.

The inspection, the cafeteria's first in four years, revealed widespread rodent infestation, inadequate temperature controls and filthy equipment.

"I am disappointed that there was not anyone inspecting it, but there was confusion between the city [of Harrisburg] and the state about whose responsibility it was," said Rendell. "But that has been solved."

"I have 100 percent confidence that this is as clean a facility as any in the rest of the state."

The newly trim Rendell made the unusual early afternoon visit to the spanking-clean eatery after a reporter last week asked why he didn't eat there anymore.

Rendell said that as part of his nine-month long diet he has cut out one meal a day, and that's usually lunch. But he invited reporters to join him for his symbolic return.

Forget any official tester; Rendell took the plunge himself, polishing off a Caesar salad (hold the croutons and anchovies) with shrimp, a bowl of New England clam chowder and a Diet Pepsi before giving the "all clear" signal.

"It's as good as a high-priced restaurant in Philadelphia," said Rendell, sitting in the barren atrium once decorated with towering tropical plants.

Before reopening, the cafeteria's operator, Philadelphia-based Aramark - which is a Rendell contributor and took over the food service contract shortly after he took office in 2003 - pledged to make the cafeteria a model restaurant in its global institutional food service empire.

To make its point, the company fired the cafeteria manager, hired a new pest-control company, and instituted new food safety and training procedures. Workers also pulled out the potted trees that were harboring the mice.

To ensure compliance with food safety regulations, the state Department of Agriculture will now handle the cafeteria's annual inspections, which will be stepped up in the first six months of operation.

But it's not the end for Aramark or the Rendell administration. Two House committees later this month will hold a joint hearings to find out how things got so bad. Meanwhile, supporters are pushing for the Senate to approve a food safety bill, which passed the House last year, that ties restaurant license renewal to annual inspections.

Rendell said he would be returning to the cafeteria on a more regular basis, but you probably won't see him at the grill line.

Rendell, the famously prodigious eater and self-described junk food aficionado, embarked on his weight-loss program last spring after tipping the scales at 265.

His secret? Daily exercise. No bread (which means no cheesesteaks since June) and half-portions at mealtime.

Despite a one-pound holiday slip, Rendell says he has lost 56 pounds, about 10 pounds away from his goal of dipping below 200.

"I'm on the homestretch," he said, before reiterating a vow he made last week and finishing off a last piece of shrimp. "I want to see the '1' on the first place on the scale before I die."