So, I just got back from a trip to Puerto Rico. We stayed in a resort that was a Waldorf Astoria property, so I was very excited to see what they had to offer, food-wise. Restaurant service was extremely slow all around, but salads and sandwiches at the cafes were really good. I think I ate hummus nearly every day… I’m not sure that it’s an island staple, but I sure as hell made it seem like it was.
Last night, I had dinner with a friend. I was telling him about the two “fancy” meals we had eaten at the nice restaurants on the resort, and how I wasn’t too thrilled with them.
“Well, the lobster tail was great, as were the truffled mashed potatoes. The pan-seared cod was ok, but the lobster risotto under it wasn’t the best that I’ve had. And then the night before that, I had gnocchi with veal shank ossobuco, and it was ok I guess, but maybe a little bland. The hummus was good.”
Then I realized that I was being a real dick, and what the hell is wrong with me? I should be grateful for this delicious meal, and pleased that it doesn’t taste like crap. Instead, I was picking at these things that starving children in China or regular people in anywhere would be more than happy to shove into their gullet.
He asked “Do you think that maybe I’m spoiling you?” and I looked down at the dinner that he had made for us: parmesan polenta, butternut squash & ricotta, and braised beef cheeks… hm. Probably yes, but I can probably truck through. I guess that’s what you get for being friends with a CIA-trained chef who doesn’t mind cooking for you… you get to be a real bitch about food.
Oh well, I’ll get by.