Good evening, y'all. My name is Jude, and I'm addicted to food blogs.
(Cue: Hello Jude! in sepulchral chorus that never fails to sound creepy and unencouraging)
I have been food-blog-free for approximately ten minutes now, but probably won't be able to resist the temptation to reincide. There's just something about them that keeps me coming back, those luscious photos, those detailed, mouth-watering descriptions...
sigh
And I'm not even hungry right now.
Case in point: http://cookbook411.com/
now THAT is NOT cricket. I think that the extent to which we (or at least I) eat through our (my) eyes is simply astonishing.
I don't like cucumbers. Never have. The other day I went to this incredibly lovely restaurant that had the ideal atmosphere for me (decoration, concept, menu, lighting, even a cute waiter...). I know I tend to exaggerate and blow things up for effect, but I was genuinely surprised by how much I instantly loved this place, having barely sat down. And, more impressively, that feeling lasted all through dinner and beyond. Anyway. I ordered fish (can't remember which) with cous-cous (which is something that I never eat, because it is not at all common here and I don't particularly like it), and watched it lovingly prepared (you could see the kitchen from the dining area). It came served beautifully, but the first forkfull of cous-cous instantly revealed the dastardly cucumber concealed within.
I didn't complain. I didn't meticulously set it aside and eat the rest. I didn't swallow it without breathing to avoid the taste, as if it were medicine. Nope. I just ate it all up, and what's more, I enjoyed it. A lot.
And it's not because I actually like cucumbers but had become convinced that I didn't for some odd reason, or that I suddenly changed my mind. I still hate their vile taste. And yet, just for that night, my brain convinced my tongue that something that lovely had to taste right, and it did. Shall the miracles never cease?
Maybe I should start writing about food... since it DOES seem to have become my sort-of primary concern (not really, but... whatever)
If you say nothing or offer no alternative, I shall treat you to an at-length digression on the wonders of the dessert menu at said restaurant
Note: there is, after all, a Spanish saying to the effects of "silence implies consent" -- el que calla, otorga
Note2: how can it be "an at-length digression" when there's nothing to digress from? But I digress...
(I'm sorry. I shouldn't try to joke. The Doctor said it was bad for my health, and it certainly can't be any good for yours) (and there I go again... bad jude!)
(Cue: Hello Jude! in sepulchral chorus that never fails to sound creepy and unencouraging)
I have been food-blog-free for approximately ten minutes now, but probably won't be able to resist the temptation to reincide. There's just something about them that keeps me coming back, those luscious photos, those detailed, mouth-watering descriptions...
sigh
And I'm not even hungry right now.
Case in point: http://cookbook411.com/
now THAT is NOT cricket. I think that the extent to which we (or at least I) eat through our (my) eyes is simply astonishing.
I don't like cucumbers. Never have. The other day I went to this incredibly lovely restaurant that had the ideal atmosphere for me (decoration, concept, menu, lighting, even a cute waiter...). I know I tend to exaggerate and blow things up for effect, but I was genuinely surprised by how much I instantly loved this place, having barely sat down. And, more impressively, that feeling lasted all through dinner and beyond. Anyway. I ordered fish (can't remember which) with cous-cous (which is something that I never eat, because it is not at all common here and I don't particularly like it), and watched it lovingly prepared (you could see the kitchen from the dining area). It came served beautifully, but the first forkfull of cous-cous instantly revealed the dastardly cucumber concealed within.
I didn't complain. I didn't meticulously set it aside and eat the rest. I didn't swallow it without breathing to avoid the taste, as if it were medicine. Nope. I just ate it all up, and what's more, I enjoyed it. A lot.
And it's not because I actually like cucumbers but had become convinced that I didn't for some odd reason, or that I suddenly changed my mind. I still hate their vile taste. And yet, just for that night, my brain convinced my tongue that something that lovely had to taste right, and it did. Shall the miracles never cease?
Maybe I should start writing about food... since it DOES seem to have become my sort-of primary concern (not really, but... whatever)
If you say nothing or offer no alternative, I shall treat you to an at-length digression on the wonders of the dessert menu at said restaurant
Note: there is, after all, a Spanish saying to the effects of "silence implies consent" -- el que calla, otorga
Note2: how can it be "an at-length digression" when there's nothing to digress from? But I digress...
(I'm sorry. I shouldn't try to joke. The Doctor said it was bad for my health, and it certainly can't be any good for yours) (and there I go again... bad jude!)
posted by jude at 9:40 pm
5 Comments:
you should find a new doctor then
"Note2: how can it be "an at-length digression" when there's nothing to digress from? But I digress..."
To paraphrase a comment on my blog: "there's nothing to digress from" -- don't beat yourself up so!
I think that it is entirely true that your brain convinced your tongue that something so nice just had to be yummy. Or maybe you didn't want to put up too much of a fuss in presence of said "cutie waiter" :)
I've always hated spinach -- can't stand the thing. But one restaurant in Philadelphia served up the most visually attractive preparation of spinach that I'd ever seen. The green of the spinanch was contrasted with the white plate and the assorted garnishings. I would have normally grimaced and pushed the spinach to the side, but I calmly put a little on my fork and gently nibbled on it (a check to make sure that all was well and that the brain wasn't selling me out).
It tasted pretty good, actually...though I suspect that the prepossessing waitress played a big role in my attempting to eat the vile and devious spinach.
Why doesn't Jude post some of her favorite recipes and creations (along with maybe a picture). I promise to reply in kind; I'd love to try out some new recipes.
BTW, do you follow cricket?
An interesting post.
With your hatred of cucumber I would avoid cricket matches like the plague. Cucumber sandwiches reign supreme at such events. They do not even wear a disguise. They are blatant.
srh: you think? actually, I don't have a doctor. The last actual doctor I "had" (in the sense of going regularly and him/her knowing who I am) was a pediatrician. I don't even go to the dentist all that much :S
continental: thanks for the support! I think that the problem is that once we convince ourselves that we don't like a certain taste, we just stop eating it by habit. I think that, in theory, we should be able to eat anything, except that that would be boring, so we create imaginary categories so we can be extra happy when eating chocolate and miserable when forced to eat coleslaw. Therefore, it takes a change in context for us to be able te re-evaluate our preferences. And a nice visual and cute/preposessing waiters are helpful to that end.
And I have never in my life seen a cricket match. I've read about it though, in old english novels. But I never quite understood how it was played
(it should be stated for the record, though, that I'm notoriously BAD at sports. One gym teacher from the dark days of my childhood once said that I would make a great handball player if I could read the instructions from a book. That was a funny anecdote, actually. Maybe I'll post about it)
Mr Fielding: I'll bear that in mind for my next match. I'm a big fan of Agatha Christie, and they're always eating cucumber sandwiches in her books. I wonder now, would those be with butter or mayonnaise? Because if they had mayonnaise in them, that would probably make them the nastiest sandwiches in the planet for me, unless you added anchovies...
Fielding,
That's quite a spiffy blog you've got; I'll be sure to check in.
Jude,
I think there's research thta shows that chocolate stimulates the brain in a smiliar way to cocaine and/or morphine, so that explains why chocolate is so delicious!
I think one has to learn the rules of cricket while growing up (otherwise it's mighty difficult). I had a finance professor ( a brilliant man with a PHd) tell me that he could never really pick-up on the rules of cricket. Another tax professor would routinely tell his class that the rules of cricket were far more complex than US tax law!
I was very bad at sports in school; I was among the last to be picked for the football or cricket teams, but among the first to be picked for the trivia competitions!
Watching cricket always conjurnes up memories of men in white, and spectators saying "well played, sir, well played" [I've read about cricket more than I've watched cricket ]which is quite a contrast to how cricket is actually played today!
Oh, and you'll want to avoid Gymkhanas; lots of cucumbers there too.
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