I told myself that I’m not a connoisseur. I’m really not a fancy guy and I’m not that particular about what I eat. Food is fuel. Wine is a sophisticated man’s game and it’s pricey and who cares. I’m happy with just about whatever’s put in front of me; to be honest, I don’t really taste the difference. When you chef television, like Hell’s Kitchen, and they taste a sauce and smack their lips and the chef throws a fit screaming “oh my god, you forgot the parsley! Far to salty!” Yeah: not me.
I didn’t mean for it to happen. Honest.
It’s just, see, when I started cooking, I had to taste stuff. Was the risotto done? Uh… actually, what is risotto even supposed to taste like? Enough pesto in the pasta? A bit more and definitely more cheese is required. After making supper I had to decide if I liked the dish enough to make it again. If I’ve made three new recipes in a row I could at least pick a favourite. Y’know, form opinions. Like some kinda connoisseur.
Tonight’s lasagne was good (maybe a tad salty and I know why that happened) the salad was a bit meh (glad I tried the experiment) and the beans turned out amazing for some reason (a total improvisation… everything tastes better with butter ~ thanks Julia Child). Oh my god, I must be one of those horrible bastards. The kind that’s been cooking for a few months and now judges everything he eats like he’s God’s gift to the culinary arts. Oh fuck me, can we ever eat with him in peace?
Yeah, that’s not really what I’m saying. I didn’t think I was capable of forming opinions on food. How could I possibly cook food when I don’t know the first thing about it and I can’t physically taste the difference. How the hell do I know if it needs more… uh… I dunno… I don’t even know what spices I’m supposed to use to make it not taste like it currently does. It’s like some inherent part of me, my tongue just isn’t built like Chef Ramsey. I used to throw random spices into dishes just to see what would happen. My wife still “teases” me mercilessly because years back I went through a phase where I added cinnamon to my food. So I really liked Dune, sue me.
But I wasn’t trying, see. I was just preparing and eating food, something I will do approximately three times per day for the rest of my life. Without mean to I’ve discovered one of the phrases in my head was wrong. I am a connoisseur, if I want to be. It’s just paying attention to what I’m eating. And practice. Well fuck, I can eat. I’m capable of doing that.
But wine? I’m going to buy what’s cheap. Actually, I’m just going to make my own, my wife’s going to teach me and probably tease me about cinnamon. I bought a beer kit from Save-On-Foods the other day. It probably won’t taste that good but what do I care as long as it’s drinkable. It’s not like I’m some connoisseur…