The affair

One night, at one of my favorite restaurants, I was scrapping the bottom of a plate that was once full of a monstrous mountain of sautéed local vegetables and the most tender sliced fillet of beef when the waiter came by with that inevitable question.  One word turned into a question that I can not deny, “Dessert?”, he asked.  Barely able to lift the fork after gorging my body with the first two courses, I still can not resist responding to his question with, “What do you have tonight?”.  My husband reminded me, as he often does, “You do not have to eat all that’s on your plate”.  Almost defensive as the dessert arrives I remind my husband, “But I love food….”. 

Food is what I center my life around.  I run in the morning so I can have the up-most decadent dessert after dinner.  My travels are always based around the best restaurant reviews.  Cookbooks are my favorite study material.  I dream about the sweet scent of beef braising in red wine, and the feel of mixing a thick luscious spoon cake.  Truth be told as guilty as we are all raised to feel as we indulge in the calorific glory of truly great food, I admit I have no remorse.  I love food.

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