I m not much of a foodie.
Food is, in my point of view, a means to an end. I believe we eat just to survive and live on. When I go to a restaurant, I scan the menu for 3 minutes: I locate things that I do not eat and then pick one from the remaining candidates. As long as a meal fills me up, I would gladly call it a good one.
Of course I like good food. I like it in the 'Do I want some caviar on your treat? Sure!' way, but not the 'I will spend my entire salary for this month on a salad of exotic Tahiti carrots' way. If high school biology had taught me anything at all, it would be 1. [Men are like video games. If you know how to work the joystick, you gain control] and 2. [A piece of $80 sirloin steak from a steak house and a slab of luncheon meat from a Styrofoam box, once down the throat, are both goners ready to be processed into waste].
To prevent unnecessary bickering, I usually decline these friends' invitation for dinner dates politely, especially when they have not decided on the restaurant yet.
But here I am, on a dinner date with a couple of these men of fine tastes…and from the fact that I can write up a blog entry while they order their food, you can see how nitpicky they are.
(Written in a posh restaurant last night, while unnecessarily starving)
Food is, in my point of view, a means to an end. I believe we eat just to survive and live on. When I go to a restaurant, I scan the menu for 3 minutes: I locate things that I do not eat and then pick one from the remaining candidates. As long as a meal fills me up, I would gladly call it a good one.
Of course I like good food. I like it in the 'Do I want some caviar on your treat? Sure!' way, but not the 'I will spend my entire salary for this month on a salad of exotic Tahiti carrots' way. If high school biology had taught me anything at all, it would be 1. [Men are like video games. If you know how to work the joystick, you gain control] and 2. [A piece of $80 sirloin steak from a steak house and a slab of luncheon meat from a Styrofoam box, once down the throat, are both goners ready to be processed into waste].
To prevent unnecessary bickering, I usually decline these friends' invitation for dinner dates politely, especially when they have not decided on the restaurant yet.
But here I am, on a dinner date with a couple of these men of fine tastes…and from the fact that I can write up a blog entry while they order their food, you can see how nitpicky they are.
(Written in a posh restaurant last night, while unnecessarily starving)
