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Is It Possible To Take Food Too Seriously?


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Within a short span of time this morning, I read a comment on Tom's chat that ended with the question: "When did eating out become so serious?" and a Frank Bruni piece in The New York Times on the feeding (ha) frenzy surrounding fine dining and bragging rights, in which he opined: "But those of us who participate in it would probably do well to lighten up."

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I don't think one should prioritize food over say funding your retirement and your child's 529 plan, otherwise, I think one can prioritize any way he/she wants.

With respect to all the burger joints - I've never had a BGR burger, a Good Stuff burger, a Shake Shack burger, a Central burger, or a Palena burger, and I haven't had Hell Burger in years. I've had one In 'n Out burger, and no more than 5 Five Guys burgers in my life. Clearly my priority isn't on burgers. I kind of feel like I'm missing out but if that means I'm missing out on a massive heart-attack as well, I'm okay with that. Maybe when there is a consensus #1 burger in DC, I'll go try it. In the mean time, we make burgers at home with 92% lean ground beef from Laura's, they're ant-biotic and hormone free (which should make Dean happy, that he's converted us).

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The answer to this question will vary from person to person. One person we all know and love would not be able to get past the first recipe. As for me, when I'm camping with my kids, I take Hellman's. I never buy Miracle Whip. The reason they call it "Miracle" whip is because it's a miracle anyone buys that stuff.

Miracle Whip: A Wii game that says "ouch."

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A thought I had the other day: overanalysis of food leads to liking it less.

I was out with a friend of mine for a casual dinner before he left town. I ordered the same thing as I had the last time I was at the restaurant, and commented to him on how much I liked the dish. I tried to think of how I'd describe it on here and found myself analyzing every bite, becoming progressively less happy with it.

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A thought I had the other day: overanalysis of food leads to liking it less.

I was out with a friend of mine for a casual dinner before he left town. I ordered the same thing as I had the last time I was at the restaurant, and commented to him on how much I liked the dish. I tried to think of how I'd describe it on here and found myself analyzing every bite, becoming progressively less happy with it.

I'd agree.

I see this as a symptom of the "law of dimishing returns" or, from another angle, "ignorance is bliss"

Let's say I've never had a burger and tomorrow I randomly pick a place and enjoy an average burger...hey, not bad! No wonder so many people like this! At that point, I like average burgers...and for all I know....I might like just about all burgers.

Then I try more burgers and do some homework. I find the best places and begin to understand what makes a great burger. I try some mediocre burgers and begin to not like them. Follow this long enough and eventually I'm disappointed by all but the best burgers in town.

Old me liked most burgers. New me likes very few. Which me will have a better time when a family member insists on Burger King for lunch?

I'm not saying knowledge is wrong. I agree that it does, however, tend to whittle things down.

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For me there is a short term tipping point and a long term one.'

The short term one come as the over analysis of each dish moves farther and farther from the simple gratitude of having something to eat when we are hungry.This is why I never, ever critique even in my head food which has been made and offered to me by another person.I am so lucky and grateful for the gift.

This does not mean I cannot or am not analitical of food and restaurants. I just completely compartmentalize based on the spirit with which the food was offered and the sincerity of the gift.

Long term....hmmm... I would have to say,on ones death bed, how it would feel to say to one's self,"I ate a lot of fancy food I don't remember and cra*ed it out." Doesn't seem like a great use of time and money.

Please,children, forgive a cranky old lady who has lived long enough to realize that food is yummy,nourishing and fun but not really that big of a deal unless you don't have enough.

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Our own man in Phoenix - Dmnkly - recently delivered a whirlwind talk on the benefits of discussing local dining specifically in a community setting such as this. He includes a recounting of the discovery and ascent of Grace Garden, made possible only by the actions of enthusiastic foodies like you.

A video of his presentation is available on YouTube, and only takes a short five minutes to view: click.

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Either I'm jaded beyond belief or hopelessly naive, but either way I just don't get it. Recently Mr P and I dined at a destination restaurant*, one that people here adore. I've read nothing but good about the chef's innovation and execution.

My main dish was a riff on a classic Southern meal, consisting of a generous portion of pork shoulder, a lot of cracklings, fried kale (two tiny leaves), and black-eyed pea spoonbread. While the pork was perfectly cooked, two tiny kale leaves, fried perfectly crisp, did nothing to enhance the dish overall. And the so-called spoonbread was more cornbread-like, albeit very moist, in texture; certainly it wasn't souffle-like as spoonbread ought to be. And I couldn't really taste the black-eyed peas.

It was quite filling due to generous portions of meat and fat, but wasn't the least bit satisfying or entertaining.

So can someone explain to me why I should have been over the moon about this dish? Was there something particularly innovative or fresh about its concept? Because honestly, if I were to serve it at my hypothetical restaurant, I would plate a smaller portion of that (admittedly perfect) pork with just a few cracklings (think raisins or adjectives), more than two leaves of kale, probably braised, maybe cooked quickly to that just barely tender stage, and a ramekin or small deep skillet of actual spoonbread - you know, something that keeps intact the dish's identifying characteristic.

Last night a friend was complaining of a similar issue at another well-regarded (though not fine-dining) restaurant. He summed it up perfectly: if you're going to riff on a knish, fine, but the result has to be better than a knish.

I just don't get it.

*no, I'm not going to say which one, because the point isn't to lambaste it

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Either I'm jaded beyond belief or hopelessly naive, but either way I just don't get it. ...

So can someone explain to me why I should have been over the moon about this dish? ...

...

I just don't get it.

*no, I'm not going to say which one, because the point isn't to lambaste it

I think I know the restaurant where you had this experience and also won't say/guess. Nor can I tell you why you should love something you didn't particularly enjoy.

I would say that if you didn't love it, that should settle it. Especially when someone (like you) has a ton of experience with great food and restaurants.

My biggest point though? I think it's a shame you'd self-censor like this. If you didn't like something at a popular place and support it well, as you have here, you'd do a service to everyone else to just share the perspective on the relevant restaurant thread. That's the point of this website, isn't it? It can be discussed in a balanced way (a disappointing dish along with others more enjoyed or other visits that were more memorable) or, if there aren't good positives to mention also, then just an honest, well-supported and constructive reporting. To not do that supports the kind of 'sacred cow' stuff that gets in the way of useful and substantive perspective. Just one person's opinion and, now, that's all I have to say about that. :)

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My main dish was a riff on a classic Southern meal, consisting of a generous portion of pork shoulder, a lot of cracklings, fried kale (two tiny leaves), and black-eyed pea spoonbread. While the pork was perfectly cooked, two tiny kale leaves, fried perfectly crisp, did nothing to enhance the dish overall. And the so-called spoonbread was more cornbread-like, albeit very moist, in texture; certainly it wasn't souffle-like as spoonbread ought to be. And I couldn't really taste the black-eyed peas.

So can someone explain to me why I should have been over the moon about this dish? Was there something particularly innovative or fresh about its concept? Because honestly, if I were to serve it at my hypothetical restaurant, I would plate a smaller portion of that (admittedly perfect) pork with just a few cracklings (think raisins or adjectives), more than two leaves of kale, probably braised, maybe cooked quickly to that just barely tender stage, and a ramekin or small deep skillet of actual spoonbread - you know, something that keeps intact the dish's identifying characteristic.

It seems to me that most high end restaurants these days don't serve their protein with two sides. If you want sides that are substantial, you have to order them. I'm also not a worshipper of all things pork. Since I don't love pork, I almost never order pork as a main dish even if a restaurant is famous for its pork.

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Or to put it another way, in a last-gasp effort to spark a discussion:

food = emperor

chef = tailors

people who post glowing reports on donrockwell.com = subjects

me = child in crowd

I could have chosen a dozen different meals I've had in the past few years to illustrate this point; I just chose the most recent one. If I said which restaurant, that would lead to a discussion over the merits of that particular place. It isn't about the restaurant.

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Or to put it another way, in a last-gasp effort to spark a discussion:

food = emperor

chef = tailors

people who post glowing reports on donrockwell.com = subjects

me = child in crowd

I could have chosen a dozen different meals I've had in the past few years to illustrate this point; I just chose the most recent one. If I said which restaurant, that would lead to a discussion over the merits of that particular place. It isn't about the restaurant.

I'm with you porcupine. My last few high end dining experiences have left me feeling ambivalent at best about the whole experience of high end dining.

Maybe I could best put it this way -- I enjoyed the meal that I shared recently with mdt at Little Serow vastly more than I enjoyed my last meal at Komi.

And at half the price.

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I'm so tired of there not being enough vegetables in meals. Sure, I can spend $8 or $10 to add a side of brussel sprouts (always with bacon). And I can order a salad. But I don't really like salads.

This becomes especially difficult if I'm traveling. I'm the person who fills the fridge with mini-carrots.

Just serve a reasonable portion of meat and enough green stuff to constitute at least a serving, preferably two.

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As young chefs think of themselves as artists and struggle in a crowded scene to distinguish their uniqueness, high-end dining becomes more about the chef's expression with "the products" and the diner's appreciation of the meal is supposed to include their "getting" the chef's artistry. An esthetic entertainment as well as gustatory experience.

If, instead, a diner is seeking nourishment, comfort, well-cooked familiar dishes, or a flavorful inexpensive meal, the choice of dining destination is obviously the key. Maybe a desire to visit the latest hot restaurants with famous or trendy chefs and a homey, healthy meal are mutually exclusive goals.

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I'm so tired of there not being enough vegetables in meals. Sure, I can spend $8 or $10 to add a side of brussel sprouts (always with bacon). And I can order a salad. But I don't really like salads.

Even when I'm traveling in a foreign country, I check out Chinese restaurants because I like veggies in my diet. Most cuisines don't offer enough tasty veggie dishes. I especially can't stand overcooked flavorless broccoli.

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If, instead, a diner is seeking nourishment, comfort, well-cooked familiar dishes, or a flavorful inexpensive meal, the choice of dining destination is obviously the key. Maybe a desire to visit the latest hot restaurants with famous or trendy chefs and a homey, healthy meal are mutually exclusive goals.

I think a diner might be seeking something even beyond food. A social setting, an experience. Now, you're talking to a guy who usually eats at a public bar rather than at a private table, but the plate can only offer so much. There's the rest of the dining experience to be had as well. Alot depends on what attitude the diner brings to the table: a spectrum starting at "I'm here, entertain me" and ending at "I'm here, and I've brought my share of fun." Dining isn't meant to be like watching a movie.

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As young chefs think of themselves as artists and struggle in a crowded scene to distinguish their uniqueness, high-end dining becomes more about the chef's expression with "the products" and the diner's appreciation of the meal is supposed to include their "getting" the chef's artistry. An esthetic entertainment as well as gustatory experience.

If, instead, a diner is seeking nourishment, comfort, well-cooked familiar dishes, or a flavorful inexpensive meal, the choice of dining destination is obviously the key. Maybe a desire to visit the latest hot restaurants with famous or trendy chefs and a homey, healthy meal are mutually exclusive goals.

I was on the verge of agreeing with you when a single word came to mind: Fiola. Then I thought of The Restaurant at Pawtomack Farm. In both these places I've had food that was satisfying, entertaining, and showcased the chef's artistry.

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I was on the verge of agreeing with you when a single word came to mind: Fiola.  Then I thought of The Restaurant at Pawtomack Farm.  In both these places I've had food that was satisfying, entertaining, and showcased the chef's artistry.

In this case, your two exceptions may prove the rule. I can understand that you would like more restaurants to give you all that you get at these two places, but expensive disappointment is in store if you expect it.

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Miracle Whip anecdote.  In my older formative years, I lived and worked in New Orleans. I always kept my Hellman's in the refrigerator at work for fear of botulism.  A co-worker informed me that one must NOT keep one's Hellman's in the fridge because it would CAUSE botulism, but, contrariwise, one MUST keep one's Miracle Whip in the fridge.

She was a member of the species Yat, genus Homo New Orleansis.

Not entirely sure if I ever ate Miracle Whip, surely I did, but we always have a big jar of Hellman's IN the fridge, today and every day, thank you, Best Foods.  If there is anything better on a homegrown Brandywine tomato, please let me know.

I worry about the Hellman's because it's made with soybean oil, an industrial oil, and I worry about my LDL, but it tastes really good to me.  If you turn your nose up at something not because of the way it tastes, but for some other reason, be it political, medical, social, economic, or political, that's not food snobbism.  Far from it.

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On 5/27/2005 at 8:58 AM, DonRocks said:

One day an apparition appeared before me, and made the following offer: you can have the best sex you've ever had in your life, IRA sex, the kind of sex where you'd cash in your entire retirement account to experience just one time.

"Cool!"

But there's one hitch…

Nervously, I asked, "what's the hitch?"

It has to be in a dark room.

"Are you kidding? Bring it on!"

Are you sure?

"Am I sure? I'm a guy! Of course I'm sure. Bring it on!

And so I showed up at the appointed hour and location and waited in the dark. I heard a door open, and then shut.

For the next two hours I was in a state of euphoria. Afterwards, I was exhausted, content, uplifted beyond my wildest dreams, and everything seemed right with the world. Then the lights went on.

"nnnnoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

I awoke with a start and sat up in my bed, panting, drenched with sweat, in a state of disorientation and total panic. It was 2 AM, and I had just had an unspeakable nightmare.

The next day I was shopping at Whole Foods, and I picked up a beautiful-looking watermelon marked "Conventional," and thought about my horrible dream the night before. I immediately put it down and went over to the boxful of more-expensive, slightly lesser-looking watermelons marked "Organic," picked one up and put it in my cart, and continued my shopping.

One day I stayed at a Bed and Breakfast in the rural mountains of Virginia. For breakfast, the hostess served up a marvelous egg dish, something like a strada but not quite the same. She had sat down at the table, we were all enjoying the conversation, and I was commenting on how much I liked this dish. A smile came across her face, a coquettish smile, the kind of smile a child would have when he wants to tell you a secret, but also wants to keep you in suspense. She said, proudly, "it has a secret ingredient that makes it so good." "Well I would love to know what it is," I said, picking up my fork. And just as I put the next bite into my mouth, she chirped: "It's Miracle Whip!" All of a sudden that ethereal, subtle flavor that had so intrigued me became painfully clear, and this dish that I was enjoying so much instantly because as pleasurable as downing a mouthful of castor oil. I then had to sit there and finish the entire breakfast with her in front of me, beaming, and talking about all the things she does and all the inexpensive ingredients she uses to cut corners, and that nobody can ever tell the difference.

I propose that "tastes good" is a necessary but insufficient requirement for greatness. How something tastes is not enough. There must be substantially more behind any great dish than the illusory fallacy of "if it tastes good, it is good." A flawed-but-honest dish is always superior to something cunningly manipulated to "fool the diner" into thinking that it's good. And with that, I invite your comments and disagreements.

Cheers,

Rocks.

"There's No Copyrighting Taste, Rules EU Court in Dutch Cheese Case" by Laurel Wamsley on npr.org

Without reading a word of this article (yet), there could be an interesting argument made for "taste" having the same rules as "sound." Think about that: You can't make your song sound *too much* like another song.

But if this is about cheeses, "taste" on its own is only part of the mimicking equation, so if some chemist in Newark can recreate the taste of Gouda, well, this is sort of what they've been doing for many decades.

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Just now, DaveO said:

She is an excellent/funny/profane writer and sure does know her way around food!!!!!

It's gonna be a new column beginning in August! She is a delight. I enjoy her podcast as well! Look for it on Itunes, if  its your sorta thing...It's titled, Robicelli Argument Clinic. 

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That's unfortunate.  I thought her article was unfocused and poorly written.  There is plenty of awareness for people editorializing their lives on social media, but it has nothing to do with concept of uncanny valley.  

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2 hours ago, astrid said:

That's unfortunate.  I thought her article was unfocused and poorly written.  There is plenty of awareness for people editorializing their lives on social media, but it has nothing to do with concept of uncanny valley.  

I have to say, it didn't resonate with me, although I do appreciate her having taken a risk.

I mean, if this is true:

“But for all the Michelin-starred meals that were so perfect they seemed celestial, the flawless pastries that were so beautiful that eating them felt like a sin, few have excited me more than peeling an accidental glob of burnt cheese off a pizza box, or finding a tiny dark brown nub of a French fry hidden at the bottom of the box like a salt-encrusted prize.”

then I'm not sure I'm all that interested in what she has to say - maybe, we'll see.

As Terry Theise wrote, "I like truffles and I like tortilla chips, but I'm not confused about which flavor is more beautiful."

Personally, I've never enjoyed a "wine moment" any more than when I hiked the villages of Cinque Terre, then took a train back to La Spezia, and had gnocchi al pesto with a carafe of unknown white wine (from Cinque Terre) while dining al fresco, but that was entirely due to the day and the surroundings; not the wine itself, so if I wrote about that, I wouldn't really be writing about wine; I'd be writing about my day (which is fine, I suppose).

Actually, there was that 1947 Cheval Blanc - that was pretty good, too. :)

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On 5/27/2005 at 8:58 AM, DonRocks said:

One day an apparition appeared before me, and made the following offer: you can have the best sex you've ever had in your life, IRA sex, the kind of sex where you'd cash in your entire retirement account to experience just one time.

"Cool!"

But there's one hitch…

Nervously, I asked, "what's the hitch?"

It has to be in a dark room.

"Are you kidding? Bring it on!"

Are you sure?

"Am I sure? I'm a guy! Of course I'm sure. Bring it on!

And so I showed up at the appointed hour and location and waited in the dark. I heard a door open, and then shut.

For the next two hours I was in a state of euphoria. Afterwards, I was exhausted, content, uplifted beyond my wildest dreams, and everything seemed right with the world. Then the lights went on.

"nnnnoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

I awoke with a start and sat up in my bed, panting, drenched with sweat, in a state of disorientation and total panic. It was 2 AM, and I had just had an unspeakable nightmare.

The next day I was shopping at Whole Foods, and I picked up a beautiful-looking watermelon marked "Conventional," and thought about my horrible dream the night before. I immediately put it down and went over to the boxful of more-expensive, slightly lesser-looking watermelons marked "Organic," picked one up and put it in my cart, and continued my shopping.

One day I stayed at a Bed and Breakfast in the rural mountains of Virginia. For breakfast, the hostess served up a marvelous egg dish, something like a strada but not quite the same. She had sat down at the table, we were all enjoying the conversation, and I was commenting on how much I liked this dish. A smile came across her face, a coquettish smile, the kind of smile a child would have when he wants to tell you a secret, but also wants to keep you in suspense. She said, proudly, "it has a secret ingredient that makes it so good." "Well I would love to know what it is," I said, picking up my fork. And just as I put the next bite into my mouth, she chirped: "It's Miracle Whip!" All of a sudden that ethereal, subtle flavor that had so intrigued me became painfully clear, and this dish that I was enjoying so much instantly because as pleasurable as downing a mouthful of castor oil. I then had to sit there and finish the entire breakfast with her in front of me, beaming, and talking about all the things she does and all the inexpensive ingredients she uses to cut corners, and that nobody can ever tell the difference.

I propose that "tastes good" is a necessary but insufficient requirement for greatness. How something tastes is not enough. There must be substantially more behind any great dish than the illusory fallacy of "if it tastes good, it is good." A flawed-but-honest dish is always superior to something cunningly manipulated to "fool the diner" into thinking that it's good. And with that, I invite your comments and disagreements.

Cheers,

Rocks.

There isn't a bottle of wine, jar of caviar, or lobe of foie gras - anywhere in this world - that "tastes" any better than a McDonald's cheeseburger.

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14 hours ago, DonRocks said:

There isn't a bottle of wine, jar of caviar, or lobe of foie gras - anywhere in this world - that "tastes" any better than a McDonald's cheeseburger.

I'm going to have to respectfully disagree here.  While I do - on occasion - eat a McDonald's cheeseburger, it is not something I welcome or enjoy in any way.  I would put any number of things light years ahead of MickeyDs.  Forget some exquisite taste from Annabelle or Minibar or P&P, I mean even the simple stuff.  

I do agree that simple tastes can be just as pleasurable as the truly transcendent ones, though.  They're just different.

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15 hours ago, zgast said:

I'm going to have to respectfully disagree here.  While I do - on occasion - eat a McDonald's cheeseburger, it is not something I welcome or enjoy in any way.  I would put any number of things light years ahead of MickeyDs.  Forget some exquisite taste from Annabelle or Minibar or P&P, I mean even the simple stuff.  

I do agree that simple tastes can be just as pleasurable as the truly transcendent ones, though.  They're just different.

Even if you don't like McDonald's cheeseburgers (*), I hope you understand the point(s) I was trying to make. I'm certain that you do, even if you might not agree.

(*) Substitute whatever guilty-pleasure, low-quality, industrial, slut food (**) that attracts you at a primal level. A Snickers bar (***), perhaps?

(**) In 1-5, perhaps 10 years, I'll be crucified for using terms like this, even though I mean absolutely *nothing* by using them other than that they (****) sound funny.

(***) Ain't nobody who can tell me that beluga caviar tastes better than a Snickers bar.

(****) I used 4-out-of-5 words with four letters, one syllable, and beginning with "th," entirely by accident.

Cheez Guvnah,
Rocks

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12 hours ago, DonRocks said:

Even if you don't like McDonald's cheeseburgers (*), I hope you understand the point(s) I was trying to make. I'm certain that you do, even if you might not agree.

(*) Substitute whatever guilty-pleasure, low-quality, industrial, slut food (**) that attracts you at a primal level. A Snickers bar (***), perhaps?

(**) In 1-5, perhaps 10 years, I'll be crucified for using terms like this, even though I mean absolutely *nothing* by using them other than that they (****) sound funny.

(***) Ain't nobody who can tell me that beluga caviar tastes better than a Snickers bar.

(****) I used 4-out-of-5 words with four letters, one syllable, and beginning with "th," entirely by accident.

Cheez Guvnah,
Rocks

Tortilla chips - crappy, industrial tortilla chips.

Oh - and Popeyes.  I've never had Beluga caviar, actually, so can't make any comparison there.

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On ‎6‎/‎24‎/‎2020 at 6:24 PM, DonRocks said:

There isn't a bottle of wine, jar of caviar, or lobe of foie gras - anywhere in this world - that "tastes" any better than a McDonald's cheeseburger.

This reminds me of something I read in Jeff Tweedy's book.  Or the exact opposite of what was in that book.

Jeff is the singer song writer for the band Wilco and put out an autobiography of sorts a few years ago.  In it he chronicles his issues with brutal headaches, depression, anxiety, and becoming addicted to pain pills.  Anyhow, he ends up in rehab and recounts this story from one of the group sessions:  "One guy told us about seeing his father murder his mother when he was nine and that he had his first taste of alcohol that night because his father forced him to drink whiskey, thinking it would make him forget what he'd seen. Hearing a story like that made me ashamed of how little I had to survive and how much pain I'd derived from so much less actual trauma.  What was I going to say when the group got to me?  'Um...I cry a lot.  I get scared sometimes.  I have headaches and it makes it hard to make music.'  That was the worst of it.  I was out of my league."

He then talks about how a bunch of them were in the smoking room after a group session and he confided to them, "I feel like I shouldn't even open my mouth.  I don't want anyone to get the idea that I think my situation compares."

"This big black guy, who towered over me, turned and started shouting at me.  'What the fuck is that shit?  Shut the fuck up!  We all suffer the same motherfucker!"

"I'm sorry, I said, backing away.  I didn't mean-----"

"Listen to me, motherfucker, listen.  Mine ain't about yours.  And yours ain't about mine.  We all suffer the same.  You don't get to decide what hurts you.  You just hurt.  Let me say my shit, and you say your shit, and I'll be there for you.  Okay?"

 

Anyhow when I read Don's "foie gras/cheeseburger comment, it made me think of this, but in the direction of pleasure, not pain.

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On 5/27/2005 at 8:58 AM, DonRocks said:

One day an apparition appeared before me, and made the following offer: you can have the best sex you've ever had in your life, IRA sex, the kind of sex where you'd cash in your entire retirement account to experience just one time.

"Cool!"

But there's one hitch…

Nervously, I asked, "what's the hitch?"

It has to be in a dark room.

"Are you kidding? Bring it on!"

Are you sure?

"Am I sure? I'm a guy! Of course I'm sure. Bring it on!

And so I showed up at the appointed hour and location and waited in the dark. I heard a door open, and then shut.

For the next two hours I was in a state of euphoria. Afterwards, I was exhausted, content, uplifted beyond my wildest dreams, and everything seemed right with the world. Then the lights went on.

"nnnnoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

I awoke with a start and sat up in my bed, panting, drenched with sweat, in a state of disorientation and total panic. It was 2 AM, and I had just had an unspeakable nightmare.

The next day I was shopping at Whole Foods, and I picked up a beautiful-looking watermelon marked "Conventional," and thought about my horrible dream the night before. I immediately put it down and went over to the boxful of more-expensive, slightly lesser-looking watermelons marked "Organic," picked one up and put it in my cart, and continued my shopping.

One day I stayed at a Bed and Breakfast in the rural mountains of Virginia. For breakfast, the hostess served up a marvelous egg dish, something like a strada but not quite the same. She had sat down at the table, we were all enjoying the conversation, and I was commenting on how much I liked this dish. A smile came across her face, a coquettish smile, the kind of smile a child would have when he wants to tell you a secret, but also wants to keep you in suspense. She said, proudly, "it has a secret ingredient that makes it so good." "Well I would love to know what it is," I said, picking up my fork. And just as I put the next bite into my mouth, she chirped: "It's Miracle Whip!" All of a sudden that ethereal, subtle flavor that had so intrigued me became painfully clear, and this dish that I was enjoying so much instantly because as pleasurable as downing a mouthful of castor oil. I then had to sit there and finish the entire breakfast with her in front of me, beaming, and talking about all the things she does and all the inexpensive ingredients she uses to cut corners, and that nobody can ever tell the difference.

I propose that "tastes good" is a necessary but insufficient requirement for greatness. How something tastes is not enough. There must be substantially more behind any great dish than the illusory fallacy of "if it tastes good, it is good." A flawed-but-honest dish is always superior to something cunningly manipulated to "fool the diner" into thinking that it's good. And with that, I invite your comments and disagreements.

Cheers,

Rocks.

Eighteen years later, does anyone understand what I was saying?

"Melted, Pounded, Extruded: Why Many Processed Foods Are Unhealthy" by Anahad O'Connor and Aaron Steckelberg on washingtonpost.com

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Yes.  Otherwise, I would've continued to pound down Big Macs.  Or Velveeta grilled "cheese" sandwiches on Wonder Bread (they undersold their product - it definitely built my body more than 12 ways).

I also agree with you that I'm not interested in meals that are well sourced, prepared with care & don't taste good.  As you say, "tastes good" is a necessary factor.

And, because I'm so goddamn jaded, I'd add that a healthy dose of mistrust is a requirement when buying the watermelon from the "Organic" section.

(by the way, could you be more specific about what you saw when the lights went on?  I need to stop my mind from endless speculation) 😇

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On 8/1/2023 at 5:46 PM, DonRocks said:

Eighteen years later, does anyone understand what I was saying?

"Melted, Pounded, Extruded: Why Many Processed Foods Are Unhealthy" by Anahad O'Connor and Aaron Steckelberg on washingtonpost.com

 

On 8/2/2023 at 11:50 AM, Steve R. said:

Yes.  Otherwise, I would've continued to pound down Big Macs.  Or Velveeta grilled "cheese" sandwiches on Wonder Bread (they undersold their product - it definitely built my body more than 12 ways).

I also agree with you that I'm not interested in meals that are well sourced, prepared with care & don't taste good.  As you say, "tastes good" is a necessary factor.

And, because I'm so goddamn jaded, I'd add that a healthy dose of mistrust is a requirement when buying the watermelon from the "Organic" section.

(by the way, could you be more specific about what you saw when the lights went on?  I need to stop my mind from endless speculation) 😇

The Perils of Highly Processed Food, by Adam Gopnik, July 24, 2023, on newyorker.com.

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