Burns My Bacon: Eat it, Bitch!
As you may have ascertained from the title of this piece (or perhaps you’ve read some of my previous blogs), I’m not too concerned with being ‘politically correct.’ In my small circle of animal loving, hybrid driving, “We Are the World” group of friends, I’m considered somewhat of a jerk.
I’m regularly referred to as a ‘Neanderthal’, ‘clueless’ and ‘barbaric’ whenever I’m asked to give my opinion regarding the latest food trends. Lately I’ve been defending my “hands off” attitude toward obtaining certain background information about my meals. Why should I apologize for caring more about how my veal was prepared than how it was raised? After all, it’s one of the perks about being at the top of the food chain. I don’t care how you slaughtered my lunch just don’t over cook it!
I don’t mean to sound cruel but I’m a carnivore without a conscience. If my chicken dinner is going to cost an additional ten bucks because it’s “free range” then just give me the common bird that was raised in a pen resembling a Tokyo subway car during rush hour. Believe me, once it’s battered and fried I could care less about its childhood.
And regardless of what my friends may say, my dinner isn’t more enjoyable when I know that the tuna is ‘dolphin safe,’ or what local farm my steak came from. Taste is my top-deciding factor when I’m planning my next meal option. Cost comes in a close second.
I never ask how my entree was raised, what it was fed or any other personal information regarding its upbringing. This isn’t a goddamn blind date it’s a meal!
There is such a thing as ‘too much information.’ I wouldn’t want to know if my date was genetically modified anymore than my food. And take it from me; sometimes it’s just better not to know too much about something before you put it into your mouth! (That’s especially true about dating…)
So if you ever have the great pleasure of dining in my presence (be you man or woman), just treat it as though it’s a surprise birthday meal. You can trust that the place we’re eating in will have a fantastic chef, a great wait staff and a killer bar. Your meal will be perfectly prepared, professionally served and your drink will be quickly refilled because…well, that’s the only kind of dinning establishment that I frequent.
Just don’t treat this meal like it’s a Match-dot-com mixer and start asking the waiter all kinds of idiotic background questions about what’s on your plate. Smile and thank your server, take a big swig of your drink, pick up your knife and fork, take a deep breath…and just eat it, bitch!