Sunday, August 30, 2009


It's damn frigid outside, isn't it? Unbelievable. What's more unbelievable is that September is here. Again. Shit, what happened to summer?

Whenever I'm a bit pensive, stressed, upset, aggravated, or any combination of the four, I wash my car. It's incredibly therapeutic to carefully brush the rims clean, to gently apply soap, and to thoroughly rinse all the dirt away. Took me two hours, but she's shining, and I think I feel a bit better.

Why are people so insecure about their palate, and food in general? I understand how food is becoming a status symbol - the one who serves filet mignon will always trump the one who serves Boyardee. But why is it that no one will really be honest about their palate, and admit that the only reason they enjoy a food is because of the perceived status it brings, instead of taste? Insecurity is a bitch.

I want people to call me out on it, when we have differences in palate. I welcome it. Tell me you disagree that something is undercooked, overseasoned, or the like - just don't try to impress on me the fact that I should enjoy something because it was expensive, or because feelings will be hurt. Food is food. It's never personal. The way I talk about food has nothing to do with who bought it, the cook's skill, or who's hosting. I absolutely don't care. The only thing I care about is what's on the plate, and I'm not about to blow smoke up someone's ass and tell them I find something delicious, if I'm being served a plateful of shit. Nothing personal, you see. When I say a dish is shit, I don't mean you are.

Call me on my bull, if you disagree. Don't pansy around with me, because I take food very seriously. Palate insecurity is very unappealing.

Let's leave it at that. I don't know a thing about food, but I do understand my palate, and I'll fight to the death to defend my taste.


Blogger's note: 7:25 pm

Just got back from a friend's place - I am exhausted and I don't know why. The cold is completely sapping all my energy. I think it's time for bed.

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