Sometimes a Manic Hobgoblin gets the better of me. I live in a sweet, old house in central Austin. I travel a few times each year. I have too many pets, and love each one more than the next.
Monday, August 27, 2007
I am not a foodie. I don't rhapsodize over gourmet flavors. I think fusion cuisine is silly. If you wouldn't feed it to a ten-year-old (vegetarian) kid, don't try to make me eat it. Ask my mom what happens when someone tries to force-feed me anything I don't like. I've got a strong gag reflex and a weak stomach.
I am also not a wine connoisseur. Blech - instant headache. When someone serves me wine, I smile and carry the glass around and even take a few sips in good faith that the host isn't trying to poison me, but I don't like wine and it doesn't like me. Champagne is an entirely different matter. I love some sweet Asti bubbly or a little sparkling prosecco, but even then I'm flirting with the afore-mentioned headache.
I like simple food. Order a cheese pizza. Stock the fruit bowl. Cut up some raw vegetables and serve them with a bowl of light ranch dressing, I'm a happy camper. Speaking of camping, I love s'mores, but hate any dessert with the words flourless, ganache, or heavy cream in the description.
In the ongoing effort to lose weight and develop healthier habits, I am enjoying smaller portions of the foods and drinks that I am so finicky about choosing. I'd rather savor a small portion than overindulge these days. Ingesting more than I need leaves me feeling bloated and listless.
The kind of people who show love with food are often frustrated by me. People need food to survive just like everyone needs love to make this life worth the struggle. Personally, I need simple, unconditional love in steady amounts over time. Don't make it too fancy with too many ingredients. Don't do the fusion thing with too many conditions that may or may not meld successfully. Don't force too much at once.