“Excuse me waiter”, I wanted to say last night, “but there’s a heart attack waiting to happen on my plate. Can I please have a salad, dressing on the side? I’m about to starve to death, and I have vasovagal syncope. This could be a disaster if I don’t eat soon.”
My husband is on the Board of the oldest food and wine society in New York. They have very fancy dinners all the time. Almost everybody who attends these dinners is a major “foodie”, meaning that they will eat anything and everything that is put in front of them, the more exotic the better.
My taste palate falls on the other end of the spectrum. Here is what I like to eat:
Whole wheat bagels,
Guacamole and chips…
You get the picture, right? Take me out to the ballgame. I would be happier with peanuts and Cracker Jacks than anything that is served to me at one of these fancy dinners.
Let’s take last night for example. Champagne was served during the appetizer/mingling hour. I ate one. It was a fried zuccini flower with lobster and melted cream cheese. It was messy and very rich. It made me nauseous, but I was desperate. The other pass around apps were Steak Tartare (don’t eat raw things), escargot (tried them once or twice long ago and then decided that snails are way too adorable, and slimy, to eat), and one other thing that I can’t remember, but it also did not fall within my limited food repertoire.
My husband showed me the menu the night before, and I saw duck something and rabbit ravioli. “I don’t like duck,” I told him, “and I would never eat a cute little Bugs Bunny!). “Please tell the restaurant to substitute.”
And substitute they did. They took my rabbit ravioli away and left me with a plate of foie gras and sweetbreads. “Oh no,” I thought, “all I have eaten is part of a white roll and that one fried appetizer which made me nauseous. This is bad, very bad.” I guess I don’t need to tell you that I would never taste a sweetbread, and foie gras is just too rich and too unhealthy for me to put into my mouth, much less ingest.
Luckily the wines last night were not to my liking at all either, or I could have been pretty sloshed given the lack of food in my stomach. They were ten to twenty years older than I like, with almost no fruit or fullness. They tasted like the cellar they came from, in my humble opinion. Now let me be fair though, everybody else LOVED the food, they savored the expensive wines. Their plates were shiny and clean, their wine glasses left with just sediment when they were taken away (unlike my food laden plates and mostly untouched wines).
Have I mentioned that I was nauseous too, from the fried lobster thingy at the beginning?
I love my husband madly. I will accompany him to these food and wine events for as long as we both shall live. I have a new plan though (I miss you Mommy, because I know you would be so with me on this one!)… I’m going to eat first next time, and I mean really eat. A big full meal with lots of greens and lean proteins. That way if I nibble away on a piece of cheese during dessert, or pick at the crust of some bread as others partake in their orgasmic food adventures, I will be satiated and sober, more or less.
Bring on the sweetbreads my fellow foodies! But next time, how about some White Burgandies and some big Super Tuscans?