I’m joking in a sense, but my wife may be a Foodaholic. She’s always talking about food, clipping recipes, watching the Food Network, planning a dinner, or making a reservation. It’s both endearing and maddening, as she enjoys the preparation, presentation, and flavor of good food. Unfortunately for me, food is just fuel, so I’ve never had the appreciation that she feels. Frustration goes both ways, but fortunately opposites attract. I do enjoy our “Date Nights,” and the opportunity to experience a new restaurant with her every week. Just like a Broadway Show, I love watching the smile on her face, and any other of my feelings just don’t matter.

Throughout our 20-year relationship, my wife and I have certainly had our fair share of top restaurant experiences. We’ve been to several thousand different restaurants around the world. You can take just about any Top 100 list and we’ve been to at least twenty, including most of the 10 best. Even my wife will admit that it’s nearly impossible to impress her anymore, but she keeps trying. Since they change all the time, finding the perfect one will be a lifelong quest. It’s not even worth putting them on a Bucket List because they sadly may be out of business before we get there and under a new name or chef.  Just this year, I finally got a reservation at The French Laundry, the only dining experience that was left on her list. We also frequently talk about Alinea in Chicago, as one of the most unique nights at the dinner table. 

As I think about the two of us sharing a meal, it was worthy of a poem to define our drastic differences:

Gastro-Romance

She’s a Five-Star girl,
With an attitude.
A fine food fondness,
Always in the mood.

She’s a Five-Star girl,
With Michelin tastes.
She checks Zagat,
To see how it rates.

A Gourmet goddess,
No less than the best.
Let’s see if the menu,
Passes her test?

Her passion for food,
And its presentation.
The chef’s cuisine,
A sensual sensation.

Opposites attract,
Love is blind.
I’m not a gastronaut,
But she doesn’t mind.

An exceptional palate,
Refined taste buds.
Hers are discerning,
While mine are duds.

She’s a caviar junkie,
With champagne taste.
While I devour,
Each bite with haste.

I’m a food flunky,
She’s a connoisseur,
She knows what she wants,
While I’m never sure.

I like my food soft,
Missed the flavor boat.
My dentures don’t fit,
My tongue wears a coat.

I can’t seem to savor,
Just want to chow down.
As she watches me eat,
I can see her frown.

My manners are poor,
She’s full of grace.
I slurp my soup,
With crumbs on my face.

She’s a Five-Star Girl,
I’m a fast food man.
She watches Food Network,
While I’m not a fan.

She’s the Foodie,
Enjoys Extravagance.
For her Date Night’s,
A Gastro-Romance.

Copyright 2019 johnstonwrites.com