A good meal soothes the soul as it regenerates the body.
From the abundance of it flows a benign benevolence.
~ Frederick W. Hackwood, Good Cheer
For Lent, one of the excursions I gave up was dining out. I thought this was going to be a great hardship. I like to try new dishes, sample different wines and pass a critical taste bud or two over exotic desserts.
And I did indeed miss it. I spent approximately 40 days and nights without setting foot in one restaurant. Once Easter arrived, I was sure that I would jump in the car and head over to one of my favorite gastronomic haunts.
Strangely, this did not happen. I think extreme fatigue from singing from Holy Thursday evening to Easter Sunday morning played a role in my reluctance to stray too far from the boudoir. But once I recovered, I wasted no time in making lunch dates with a couple of friends.
Nothing prepared me for the shock. I took one bite of a medium rare bit of happiness and it tasted like sawdust. This was very odd indeed. This strange state of affairs did not change when a week later, I joined another friend for dessert. In fact, it got much worse. What, you ask, could possibly be worse than filet mignon tasting like sawdust?! Flourless chocolate cake ~ tasting like the inside of a refrigerator that hasn’t been opened in a week. Or two. That is not simply unpalatable, it is just wrong.
I found myself thinking, ‘eating out is so over-rated! My cooking is much better!’ What can I say? Humility is acknowledging the truth. ;o)
Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela
From the abundance of it flows a benign benevolence.
~ Frederick W. Hackwood, Good Cheer
For Lent, one of the excursions I gave up was dining out. I thought this was going to be a great hardship. I like to try new dishes, sample different wines and pass a critical taste bud or two over exotic desserts.
And I did indeed miss it. I spent approximately 40 days and nights without setting foot in one restaurant. Once Easter arrived, I was sure that I would jump in the car and head over to one of my favorite gastronomic haunts.
Strangely, this did not happen. I think extreme fatigue from singing from Holy Thursday evening to Easter Sunday morning played a role in my reluctance to stray too far from the boudoir. But once I recovered, I wasted no time in making lunch dates with a couple of friends.
Nothing prepared me for the shock. I took one bite of a medium rare bit of happiness and it tasted like sawdust. This was very odd indeed. This strange state of affairs did not change when a week later, I joined another friend for dessert. In fact, it got much worse. What, you ask, could possibly be worse than filet mignon tasting like sawdust?! Flourless chocolate cake ~ tasting like the inside of a refrigerator that hasn’t been opened in a week. Or two. That is not simply unpalatable, it is just wrong.
I found myself thinking, ‘eating out is so over-rated! My cooking is much better!’ What can I say? Humility is acknowledging the truth. ;o)
Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela
2 comments:
"too far from the boudoir"
Just can't resist the poetic urges, can you? ;-)
Sad state of affairs. FWIW, M and I have never been able to make through eating a pizza at a restraunt without agreeing that ours is much better... ;-)
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