It is like a little recipe
This is not real, this all is not real, and I mean existence is a factually subjective process. but there are ways to make things real. Food.
There are the ingredients that precede the actual planning, that supersede the anxious look on your face when your guests dig in. It is all in the food; food brings people together to tears communities apart. Food makes people feel anything and everything that is more involved than what is going in your mouth.
How the restaurants we visit use the ingredients are used can set you up for a win or a heist. Any restaurant can follow the same meatloaf recipe, but for some reason, it taste different depending on whom you are sampling from.. Sometimes, the food taste so good, you want to keep eating, it, but you cannot because of the physical ramifications on your–like–whole being. Hell, even hedonists take a break. Other times, food can be so disgusting; you stay up all night, and parts of the next few days, paying for it.
I use to go to an outdoor restaurant that everyone would bring his or her own flair to add to the main course, it was like an intricate dinner of appetizers. I was never sure if I brought the right dish or if I late to a theme night. There was a strict adherence, however, that you advertise your dish correctly. Shoptalk vagueness approved when everyone would go around asking what you used to make your dish “pop”. At the same time, no one had a concrete answerer what his or her dish actually was. I see everyone eating, but no one knew what they’re chewing o. It was a fresh way to keep the “Main Chefs” motivated to serve you nothing. Make sure you bring your dish, and beg to prove that you are worthy to serve it: that was the motto of this restaurant. That was the overall theme.
To eat from other plates mattered more to some than bringing one’s own dish, most of these chefs found comfort in “Mixing and matching” which was the code word for stealing and copying. Plastered recipes became redundant when learned of another chef’s faux accomplishment was at an expense of silenced glory. It was a code amongst chefs to keep it “working” if it worked for the customer. Nevertheless, there came a time when the food became so copied and watered down, it was best to try to bring your own disastrous recipe to add some type of flavor into the mix. Even though you found your soufflé completely flat, it was better than getting the same advertised winner, with the redundant chicken dinner,
With all the redundant meals from the same pop up restaurants and all the code speak to keep the riff raff out for some reason, didn’t keep me not coming over to see what would be on my plate for next time. If I would get a sprig of lemon or would someone in the kitchen be cool, and give me an extra slice of pie. Either way, it was fun and games to get the expected until I was told that I needed to reach an expectation.
Some east-bread clod once asked me to assimilate to his brand of terrible food. What made this unsavory was that no one saw an issue with his request. The whole restaurant solicited others on the idea of originality. Which was a complete façade, at the end of the day, the “help that was sought out and hired” all prescribed to the same routine ideas and beliefs when it came to food, or better yet social interactions. When someone dared to step out and make their recipe just the way, they would “at home”, that chef was immediately spotted and sent shunned. Only to be allowed back if the swallow of the “restaurant truths” were loud and bold, like any routine loyalty oath
The theme of this restaurant It was a battle of egos, rather than sharing of meals. Whose course was better the next man was more important that what I could learn to zap up my recipe for next time.
I just rather eat at home with friends. At least we can get seconds and food to go home with.