Don't Make Me Eat That

I am all for creativity, but not with things I ingest. I just read a recipe from a "famous chef" wherein it is suggested I take a quantity of juicy, delightful God-given strawberries, drench them with oil and vinegar and grill them, then smother the lot with blue cheese and slap it on a slice of toasted bread, or in this case, a crostini, which sounds better. With all due respect to my good friend Gabby, a superb cook in her own right who brought it to my attention with a thumbs-up, I must say, "gag me with a spoon."

It reminds me of my dinner a few weeks ago at a local restaurant called Grace, which is located inside an old church. (Cute name.) My husband and I had heard it was "fantastic," and who doesn't want a fantastic meal? After we ate there, we wanted one even more. First, we could hardly find anything appealing on the menu, since everything that started out healthy had been downgraded to junk food. The fresh salmon was "maple-glazed." (Yuk.) The lamb chops were "encrusted" with pecans. (Barf.) Finally we each ordered something, and when the odd-looking entrees arrived, I swear there were things on our plates we simply could not identify by sight or taste.

Something is surely lacking in our culture that causes us to seek excitement through the alimentary canal. Give me a banana and a bowl of oatmeal any day.