I haven't got a food that i love that'll make me shit terrible, really. But here's a true story for you.
As i sit in an establishment that serves food, anyone looking over my shoulder would like to read that i am not a food critic. In fact the people working in this establishment should be encouraged to feel the opposite feelings to the nerves and worry that would come with serving a food critic. A food critic will judge everything that's done as soon as they sit at the table. Is the room temperature tepid? Is there enough space? Are the chairs strong and comfortable enough? Will the waiter/waitress be friendly? Should i challenge them? Where's my fucking food?
At least all this is what i imagine a food critic does when entering a restaurant. I do just the opposite.
I walk in and wonder if there's any room at the establishment which is proof that i am a descendant of Mary or Joseph from that story in the bible. As soon as i notice a place to park it i mark it, dropping a hoodie or my rucksack on the chair. I rush to the bar and politely ask for a drink which i'll sip whilst mulling over the menu. Once i have chosen something that's the wrong side of healthy i politely order it and then i sit down, completely at the whim of the establishment. They can take as long as they like and have any attitude they want when giving it to me. (I might ask after 30 minutes) As long as it comes and tastes fine im happy. My connection to the establishment is then cut unless i want dessert, wherein i repeat the previous process.
I usually have to spend a lot of time on the "mulling over the menu" area of my dining process. This isn't because im fussy. If i was fussy, it'd be easy. I'll pick the only thing i like: Ham egg and chips or something like that. Im not calling ham egg and chips boring by any standard. It just seams to be what fussy British people eat.
The truth is im far from fussy and i fancy everything. You can test me on that if you wish. I would try everything on the menu if i was rich and dined out often. This means the "what do i fancy" approach of picking food has to be thrown away and the "What will make me feel full" approach is adopted.
Have you noticed that everything on a good and tidy menu in a food restaurant is edible? And it's all fairly filling. So then i have to readopt the "What do i fancy" approach again and the two process' dovetail in my mind until i think "Fuck it, i'll have a steak."
I've always done this. It got hard when i had a girlfriend who got angry when hungry (who doesn't?) and i had to decide much, much quicker. The stress of keeping my girlfriend happy whilst not knowing what to eat was immense and it always resulted in my eating lasagne. Lasagne is delicious, don't get me wrong, it's just that it's very rich and on two separate occasions i rued my decision to eat the pasta dish.
You see, on these two occasions It wasn't just food with a girlfriend. These were dates and let me tell you, im a smooth operator when im on a date and i can make any lady as moist as the establishment's cake.
Needless to say, at the end of the date, i was invited in and we put on a film to ignore. (I'll add here that we had been and item for a while and were comfortable with each other. Im not that terrific). Well with a belly full of lasagne that was now moving at unnatural speed, something felt wrong. There was a badness that was creeping upwards towards my neck. I saw no other option but to withdraw and vomit in the toilet, brush my teeth and hope she doesn't notice.
On TWO occasions, like i said, she had noticed and boy did i pay for it! I haven't eaten lasagne in another establishment but my kitchen since. Even though im single (surprise, surprise).
I am a terrible human being.
*****
Dafydd Evans
No comments:
Post a Comment