Member-only story
Let’s be honest
I’ve had enough fine dining to last me a lifetime.
Something interesting has happened to me. After years of trying to be on a budget, trying to be more moderate, trying to curb my desires and greed and envy, trying to cultivate gratitude, trying to avoid the siren call of pretty clothes and nice food and good wine… I have suddenly and unexpectedly arrived at an odd and rather delightful place.
Maybe it’s the fact that I had COVID two weeks ago and still have no taste buds or olfactory sense. That inconvenient fact may have triggered this new mindset. I’m not fixating on trying this new cracker-thin pizza crust or that new Korean bar-b-que. However, I don’t think that accounts for the totality of what I’m experiencing.
There’s a money and gratitude component as well, a dawning, shocking, lurching realization that what I’ve always known to be true, is, actually, true. Meaning that I feel it in my bones, and it’s making me a little sick.
I realize with shock, horror, and shame that I have had enough, nay, more than enough, fine dining for any normal mortal. I’ve had enough. I’ve tasted the good wines, slurped the briny oysters from their pearly shells, tongued the unctuous pasta shells filled with squid ink. All of that and more. And I don’t want any more.
