I wish I appreciated great food. I happened to re-read a few chapters of Ruth Reichl’s Comfort Me With Apples, and she makes everything sound so wonderful. The cheese! The pastry! The caviar! My friend Sam does, as well, on her blog Lunch for Two—for example, she has a series of posts about her quest for the perfect quiche.
I’ve never experienced the kind of pleasures they describe. Sure, I love chocolate-chip cookies and apples and my new favorite snack, yoghurt mixed with All-Bran cereal. But I’m never transported by flavor.
In my whole life, I can remember only one meal that struck me as remarkably delicious, and that was dinner at the Inn at Little Washington in 1996.
One of my commandments is “Be Gretchen,” and it’s only recently that I’ve admitted it to myself: I have a cramped, unsophisticated appreciation for cuisine. My only consolation for this inadequacy is thinking about the calories and money I’m saving.