Me, The Foodie vs. Michelin Stars
I will probably never be able to eat at a Michelin Star restaurant. And, even if I do get to the point of being able to afford a meal or someone likes me enough to throw me a treat, I suspect I will attribute a reasonably average rating. Now here is why.
I have always been an eater. And I mean the kind of food lover who cannot stop chewing at a good thing. I have my photo in a remote place somewhere as the devourer of two giant Texas steaks in 30 minutes.
And then, of course, there is something like this.
First, it looks like something I would put up on the wall to decorate. The thought of sinking silverware into any of the thirty shapes here should probably be punishable under the law, for vandalism.
Second, I probably would never order this. Not because there is something in here that I am allergic to, but primarily because I would not know what to expect when I read “Roast Scottish diver scallops, carrot purée spiced pork croquette, raisin and caper vinaigrette.” For someone who is a “one of #13 and 2 of number 15” food ordering person, reading that would
Third, the earliest available booking is about three weeks out, at Lucknam Park! I am not sure how to work up an appetite for “Roast Scottish diver scallops, carrot purée spiced pork croquette, raisin and caper vinaigrette” over 21 days.
Fourth, when I am hungry, I am hungry, not just strutting and swooning around food. If I needed to feed a genuine with this (not feeling like eating again till the next meal time), I would need approximately four servings of this, with some grain— rice, bread, or, on a bad day, maybe quinoa. Adding grain to any part of this plate is probably punishable for vandalism.
Where I am from, there is a day in the year when a son-in-law gets invited to visit the wife's parent’s house and serve a feast — the occasion is called Jamai Sasthi. A Jamai Sasthi feast will look like the photo below.
Now you know! I eat to eat, not make love to my food.