The Aspiring Epicurean

I really shouldn’t watch “Iron Chef”.

I get all sorts of grandiose ideas for cooking when I watch the culinary prowess of Mario Batali or Bobby Flay.

And what wouldn’t I give to sit on the panel and sample their fare?

Anyway, after watching an episode or two I start to believe that I too can be an Iron Chef. Not that I have the confidence to actually invite someone over for dinner and eat what I’ve created.

No, I’m too insecure for that and would much rather use myself as the lone guinea pig.

Besides, it’s probably “gastrically” safer this way.

The problem is I’m only half inspired. I watch the cooking shows, I buy “Fine Dining Magazine”, I even go as far as buying the ingredients

but,

often I resort to eating the fancy cheese, intended for a lasagna, melted on a cracker.

Or the red pepper bought for grilling and mixing in pasta is merely chopped and put in a basic salad.

And today, I admit to the most shameful example of my failure to follow through on creating a culinary feast. I have the plumpest, freshest asparagus stalks sitting in the crisper of my refrigerator.  Throughout the entire day I dreamed of making fresh spaghetti with asparagus, pancetta bacon, Parmesan, olive oil and lemon.

As my students worked quietly at their desk I visualized how I would fry the bacon and stir in the steamed asparagus pieces. I’d cook the fresh pasta until it was perfectly el dente then toss lightly with olive oil and lemon juice . Then I’d gently grate the Parmesan cheese exquisitely on top.

At the end of the day I drove directly to the grocery story to buy the ingredients to complete my culinary masterpiece

salivating all the while.

After I purchased my treasures, I hurried home, dodging slow traffic, cutting through back alleys,

to start my delectable supper

and

promptly sat down and ate a can of smoked oysters and crackers as soon as arrived home.

It seemed, as I carried my grocery bags out of my vehicle,

across the parkade

and up the three flights of stairs to my condo,

I could feel the weariness of the day settle on my body

with each plodding step I took.

When I got home all I wanted to eat

was something simple.

So, the groceries for my pasta dinner sit in my refrigerator. Waiting.

I’m sure I will put them to good use eventually although maybe not in the manner in which they were originally intended.

But, there is always hope.

As I type this Mario is on the television dazzling me with ingenious ways to prepare fresh tuna.

Which makes me wonder, does Save On sell fresh tuna steaks?

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