I love food. When I was overseas. I used to dream about the stuff. I would have these dreams about running across a beautiful white sand beach under swaying coconut palms pursuing a bikini clad Big Mac or Big Beef Burrito Supreme.
I should probably point out here one of my main theories on dining.
I never eat anything I can’t spell.
Anyone familiar with this column and thus my spelling can testify that potentially encompasses a great deal. I am not certain where or when I came up with this theory but whenever I came up with it, it has stood me in good stead for quite some time.
Let me give you an example of foods I can spell, thus can eat: steak, fries, hot dogs, tacos, and burgers. Good solid foods that would wet almost any appetite.
Yet, my wife contends that I am, “missing a plethora of dining experiences” (big words in the lead up to the foods – never a good sign).
“But with that theory, you can never experience wonderful dishes like vichyssoise or bouillabaisse or escargot,” said my wife.
I later found out those first two were types of French fish stew. The third one is sauteed snails. Yep, those are things I want to spell and eat. I pointed out to her that those three were not points in favor of her defeating my theory.
Seeing that she might have started in the wrong direction in convincing me that my dining limitations were in error, she tried another tack.
“Think of all the great vegetables you are missing,” she said. (In my mind this sentence has two oxymorons – first, the word “great” and the word “vegetables” and second the word “vegetables” and the word “missing”).
I started to sneer and she started to list them.
“Asparagus, Rhubarb, Brussels Sprouts and….”
“Whoa there,” I interposed. “Let’s just look at the first two of your suggestions. Basically you are talking about weeds that you couldn’t kill if you tried. They come up through the sidewalk, for heavens’ sake.”
“But with a hollandaise sauce, its quite..” she began, but I cut her off.
“And I ask you,” I said, clearly on a roll, “have you ever seen a dog walk by one of those plants without, let us say, watering it?”
“You don’t like vegetables do you?” she asked.
I had to admit that she was correct.
“But they’re good for you and they will make you stronger,” she said hoping to appeal to yet another side of me.
“Which in my mind,” I said. “is not a selling point. Do you remember when you were a child and your mother gave you terrible tasting medicine, she always said ‘but it’s good for you,” and when the nurse at the doctor’s office was about to give you a shot, she would say, ‘It will make you stronger’?”
It was at this point that she got an evil gleam in her eye and said, “So you don’t eat anything that you can’t spell, huh?”
I nodded fearfully.
“Well,” she said like some kind of motherly looking reptile playing with a small bird she was about to devour, “What about peas? You certainly can spell “peas” can’t you?”
I was going to be honest and say I always thought it was spelled “P-E-E-S,” but then she would see just how stupid I am, so I came up with an addendum to my theory.
I now also don’t eat anything that is green.
Think about it. Most of the things in my refrigerator that end up green started some other color, like my old hot dogs, steak, fries, tacos and burgers.
I have learned, however, if you cut off the green parts, they’re not half bad…
For some reason my wife just covered her mouth, made gulping noises and went running towards our bathroom.
I don’t think I’ll be cooking tonight.