What Fresh Hell Is This Meal From Trump's Golf Course?

President Donald Trump sure loves his golf courses. He spends a ton of time hanging out in them, despite declaring during his 2016 presidential campaign that he would be too busy to golf, and he's even made the point of calling one of his clubs "the Winter White House."

On Monday, one of his lesser known courses — the Trump National Golf Club Hudson Valley in New York — posted a picture of a meal that could make actual chefs around the world cry.

The picture shows some grape tomatoes, corn kernels, an unidentified yellow substance, and what could be cilantro wrapped in rice paper or daikon. It's unclear. The text in the photo reads: "When your Mom said 'eat your vegetables,' we heard her loud and clear!"

See for yourself.

"Trump National Hudson Valley - so much more to your Membership!" the tweet accompanying the photo of the sad-looking meal read. (According to a 2010 report, initiation fees for the club were $10,000 plus annual dues of $7,500 at the time. It's unclear if the fees have increased.)

Refinery29 reached out to the Trump National Golf Club Hudson Valley to find out whether this is an item offered on their menu, what's in it, and how much does it cost. We didn't hear back by press time.

The tweet was deleted after about an hour with no explanation. But of course, the internet is forever.

The quality of food in Trump-owned establishments have been questionable at best, according to food critics. (And health inspectors, who found several food-safety issues at the president's Mar-A-Lago Club in Palm Beach, FL.)

In 2016, Vanity Fair ran a story titled: "Trump Grill Could Be the Worst Restaurant in America." The piece, written by Tina Nguyen, described her less-than-stellar experience at the steakhouse located in the lobby of Trump Tower in New York City.

Among some other scathing reviews of items on the menu, she wrote: "Renowned butcher Pat LaFrieda once dared me to eat an eyeball that he himself popped out of the skull of a roasted pig. That eyeball tasted better than the Trump Grill’s (Grille’s) Gold Label Burger, a Pat LaFrieda branded short-rib burger blend molded into a sad little meat thing, sitting in the center of a massive, rapidly staling brioche bun, hiding its shame under a slice of melted orange cheese. It came with overcooked woody batons called 'fries'— how can someone mess up fries?"

Indeed, how can anyone screw up fries? Maybe they were made by the same people whose idea of a good salad (?) is scattering a handful of vegetables on a plate and calling it a day.