Quirk #12

I am a total foodie.

I mean this in the good sense of the word, not that I'm a food snob -- although, I think maybe I AM a food snob... Um. Okay, yes, I'm a food snob. But I have full right to be. I went to culinary school. I know how to cook like a 5 star chef. I invent my own recipes, and they're actually restaurant worthy. I'm familiar with an incalculable number of types of cuisines -- not just what they should taste like, but how to cook them as well.

To me, good food can be better than the most amazing sex you could ever dream of, and I'm happy with that. Of course, this all means that I weigh a bit more than I should... Meh. Who gives a crap. Its not like I weigh 3 metric tonnes or anything.

So last night, after searching for a new apartment, we're driving through this village in the berkeley hills (yes, it really is a village), and we pass by this little bistro that looks charming. I'd been there for lunch before, but not for dinner, so I figure we should try out their dinner menu.

To my surprise, what during lunch time is a charming cafe with reasonable prices and a simple menu, becomes at night a 5 star french californian cuisine restaurant with a prix fixe menu that you have to know a fair amount about food and the french language to decipher.

Personally, I was in heaven the moment I saw that.

I was above heaven the moment I saw that they make their own pate (I can't figure out how to make the little accent thingies, so that looks wrong... ).

So we ordered a 3 course meal. And yes, it was actual courses. Like really. Complete with the table being reset between the entree' and dessert.

The pate was amazing. They used sage in it, and I've never tasted a better pate in my life.

I had the pacific halibut, which was served over a rice pilaf and topped with wilted escarole and shallots, garnished with a baked fig. The whole thing was surrounded by just the perfect amount of a butter and lemon sauce, which I HAVE to figure out how to make.

The BF got a roast chicken leg roulade, again over rice pilaf, topped with wilted spinach and shallots.

I ate too much. I ate way too much. But because it was all cooked to perfection, and from the freshest local ingredients (many of them organic apparently), I did not feel weighed down at all. Which was a good thing, mind you, because we hadn't had dessert yet.

Dessert was classically french. An artisan cheese platter made up of locally made goat and cow's milk cheeses that I cannot for the life of me remember the names of (probably because I couldn't have pronounced them without tying my tongue in a knot). They were small, and amazing, and one was crusted with ash, another was crusted with grape leaves, and the third was just a normal white crust, and it came with a little bunch of champagne grapes... AH.

We didn't order any wine... We should have though. That would have just made the evening beyond perfect. As it was though, it was better than sex, and I have never been happier with a restaurant in my life. I took their card so we could make reservations for the next time we want to go there. Turns out that we were insanely lucky to get a table without a reservation as they were, other than our one table, booked solid. I mean, turning people away at the door booked solid.

Not that I'm surprised. It was $100 well spent (yup. Dinner for 2, $100 USD. You read it right), and I don't regret one single penny. In fact, I kind of wish we'd spent more, as it would have meant more amazing food.

Am I using the word "amazing" often enough? LOL.

I. Am. Not. Hungry!

So I'm sitting at my desk, quietly wasting time, and one of the women from the next office over comes into our office, and starts offering everyone potato chips.

"No thank you," I say.
"Oh come on, you're afraid of potatoes?" She says.
"No..."
"Try one then, its sweet potato"
"No thank you"
"But its just like at Thanksgiving!"
"No thank you, I'm not hungry"
"You know, like with marshmallow and cinnamon" She continues, ignoring me.
"No. Thank you." I say, and glare at her until she goes away.

What is it about working in an office thats 90% staffed by women over the age of 35? They're always bringing in everything that they're not supposed to eat, and shoving it down everyone elses throat. Its like, because they're not supposed to eat it, they have to make themselves feel better about eating it by making everyone else eat it too!

This kind of thing happens all the time. So and so gets chocolates for Mother's day. Where do those chocolates end up? Next to the printer in the middle of our office with a little sign saying "Please have one!" The chick at the far end of the office has a birthday, and cake is brought in. Cake that I don't care for. And at least 5 different people stop by my desk telling me to "go have some!" Someone decides they want a doughnut for breakfast. What do they do? They buy a huge box full of them, and put it out for the rest of us to have.

Look, I'm not against junk food. I LOVE junk food. In fact, I eat too much of it on my own. If I wanted junk food, I'd have gone out and bought some. So, if I'm turning it down, that means I REALLY don't want any. I weigh quite enough as it is, and I'm not interested in weighing more just because you people need to have someone join you in your dietary sins so you can "feel okay" about stuffing your face like a pig.

And please, don't give me that hurt look when I stifle my urge to tell you to fuck off because I don't need to add another 5 pounds to my ass, and instead politely say "no thank you, I'm not hungry." You may weigh 350lbs, but I don't want to.

GAH!