If I was still writing a weekly column you can be assured that food would be a relatively consistent topic. I love to eat, wouldn’t cliaim to be an expert. You aren’t going to label me as a gourmand or foodie but I have a decent palate.
In the old good old days when cash wasn’t flowing straight into the coffers of private schools there was enough left over to enjoy nice meal at a restaurant that wasn’t represented by creepy kings or clowns.
The chance to go out and have a good steak or enjoy great sushi once a month or even every couple of months was something that I really enjoyed. Ah, fond memories of my youth and days of fewer responsibilities. Someone hand me a skull so that I can do my bit from Hamlet, “alas poor Yorick, I knew him well.”
And now back to food. For the three people who read this and know me in real life, a bad meal really irks me. It is not like everything has to be perfect. It would be great if every meal was exceptional, but that is just not reality. I get that, I understand it and I don’t mind.
But a truly bad meal is something that just sets me off. On the grand scale of things, the great injustices of life this is truly trivial. But sometimes when you are really hungry the last thing you want is a meal that is bad.
So let me lay out what I consider a bad meal to be. There is the obvious choice of consuming food that makes you ill. That is a bad meal. However, it doesn’t always start out that way. If you think about it I am sure that you can remember having eaten something that tasted good, but made you sick.
The truly bad meal is the one that you eat when you are starving but find to be bland, burned, dry, overcooked, undercooked or whatever other adjective you want to add. Think of eating a bar of soap or brussel sprouts and you’ll get what I am talking about.
That is a bad meal. It leaves you feeling let down and discouraged. And now that I have vented about that you’ll excuse me as I have to go get something to eat.