Monday, April 11, 2011

Why Not Cry Over Spilled Milk?

I love food.

I hear people say they love food all the time, but they don't really mean it. They speak in hyperbole.

They like the initial taste of a meal and the resulting satisfaction after the meal is over. They like the warmth that food gives them in their bellies and the slight high food gives them after eating too much of it.

I mean it in the literal sense of the word "love." I love food. I love spices. I love herbs. I love the variety of textures, the way the aroma of garlic and onions changes as you saute them, the way cabbage becomes sweet with a little heat. I love the vibrant colors of homegrown fresh produce. I love them so much that I hate wasting any of them with mediocre cooking or carelessness.

I once spent an hour and a half making my sister's delicious meatloaf late one night only to forget about it as it was cooling until it was a wasted, neglected, bacteria-ridden mass by morning. I weeped on the inside; pouted on the outside. I failed that 1.5 lbs of meat, that half cup of oatmeal, two eggs, ketchup, mustard, brown sugar...and the onion! Oh the onion! I couldn't look at it as I scraped the congealed meat into the trash.

As I put the effort into growing some of my own vegetables and herbs, I feel a divine mission to make sure each one of my precious plants is able to fulfill their purpose in life: Be part of something scrumptious. A burned lasagna, an under-roasted tomato, a spilled glass of milk. In my mind, these are all painstakingly created or produced items of nature that were unable to reach their potential in life. And that just saddens me.

Therefore, I make it my goal to create tasty (albeit simple and not nearly gourmet) food for myself and my boyfriend, Justin (engineer; guitar-playing foodie) and am always on the lookout for restaurants who seem to grasp this same philosophy: Make the customer understand that I have a love for food that transcends the taste on the tongue or the fullness in the belly. Make the customer realize that I have helped food achieve its destiny by making each person sit back, stop thinking and exhale the word, "Yum."