I don’t know why I have such an aversion to fancy food? It seems to me that most of the time the presentation far exceeds the taste. My tastes must be very simple as I would most of the time prefer a Taco Bell chicken quesadilla to a full-course meal at a fancy restaurant. Certainly, part of the reason for my preferences is cost. I can’t eat $40.00 worth of food so why go to place where it is going to cost that much? I just returned from a nine-day trip aboard the Royal Caribbean ship, the Navigator of the Sea. The evening meals were fancy and, for the most part, rather good. However, most of the descriptions went right over my head: smoked Fish Tapenade; Sweet onions, tangy capers and fresh herbs complement this fish dish, served with a golden brown crostini; Sopa de Tortilla; Robust Mexican tomato soup garnished with fried julienne tortilla; Grilled Mediterranean Quesadilla; Aloo Gobi Methi; and Fenugreek-flavored potato and cauliflower curry served with fragrant basmati rice, pappadams and tangy raita. Here is my poetic effort to explain my frustration:
Ode to Soup de Jour
I love to eat out every time I possibly can,
Don’t want to cook, or toss or baste, just sit and lift my hand;
But simple food is all I want, none of this fancy stuff,
Just feed my face till I can feel that I have had enough.
Throughout the years, my friends and I have eaten out a lot,
I really do not fuss at all unless the food’s not hot;
But they prefer the restaurants where menus are in “Greek;”
Then I must figure out what is just plain ol’ charbroiled steak.
The salads come with vinaigrette; I want just good ol’ Ranch,
I’d never heard of turbadoes which caused my cheeks to blanch;
I learned that vichyssoise’s a soup, served cold instead of hot,
Why in the world a soul would choose a cold soup–I would not.
I love my taters hot or cold; they serve just pome de terre,
I search and search the menu but potatoes are not there;
I ask for cake with ice cream, but they serve it a la mode,
How is a man to eat when every menu is in code?
So give me Subway sandwiches and Checkers with french fries,
Don’t give me au gratin, garçon; it’s cheese I idolize;
My taste is so plebeian that I truly want it plain,
To analyze the language of a menu strains my brain.
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