Over the years, I’ve been accused of being a foodie by the people who know what I cook. But I have to strongly disagree with that label. While I cook most of our dinners from scratch, and try to use mostly fresh ingredients, I’m a far, far cry from foodie.
Last night’s dinner, chicken cutlets, roasted potatoes and arugula salad, may seem ambitious to some. To me, it’s just another ordinary dinner made with basically normal ingredients. Maybe arugula was unheard of, except in Italian gardens, a few decades ago. But now arugula is everywhere.
I love Ruth Reichl, the longtime editor of the now defunct “Gourmet” magazine, and I love her foodie rhapsodies. She has been a foodie her entire life. I follow Ruth on Twitter, not because of her foodie-ness, but because of her very poetic tweets. One of them caught my eye today: “Sitting in sunshine. Tiny birds flit through the fountain. Black coffee. Dreaming about the great food I’ve eaten.” Doesn’t that make you want to share the dreamy moment with her. I follow the link to her blog where she shares photos and descriptions of the great food she’s eaten on a trip to LA.
The photos are beautifully done. Some look as poetic as her dreamy tweets, for example, the first photo is a plate of snails. That’s where the poetry ends. Snails, I never go near them. Nothing appeals to me about them except for the garlic butter sauce in my memory from when I tried them once a long time ago. The second photo is a crisp potato cake. Yep, I’ll take several of those slices… until I read the description of the next photo. It’s a Thai dish that is: “a bowl of noodles containing beef, tripe, liver and assorted animal parts, along with chiles, cilantro, fish balls.” You lost me at tripe and assorted animal parts. Never mind the fish balls.
The next few dishes sound okay, but don’t look as appealing to me. Then we come to the squid ink pasta topped with sea urchin. Not happening in this house.
If I were a foodie, I’m sure that I’d be drooling by the end of this post. But I’m not. I kind of need to wash out my eyeballs after seeing and reading many of these dishes.
My apologies to those of you who love this kind of food. I get it. But I also get that I’m not one among you.
I love you Ruth, and I love your poetic musings. But you’ve proven beyond a doubt that I’m not a foodie.