Sunday, February 9, 2014

Fine Dining Isn't Always Fine




Eleven hours after leaving my hotel in Naples, I arrived home hungry and slightly nauseous after a bumpy landing.  My butt was sore from sitting too long and I felt annoyed by all aspects of flying.  Waiting, standing in line, loading the plane like cattle and managing claustrophobia with far too many humans in one place.  Could they jam a few more seats in there?  With all the advances we have made in technology, our current method of flying people around the world feels more and more antiquated.  Or maybe I'm just cranky.  Probably that.

One of the hardest things about traveling is compromising my food routine.  I wouldn't call myself a food snob (onion rings and a Cobb salad make me happy on the road), but I do want what I want, when I want it.  'Food brat' is more accurate.  In Naples, we went to nice restaurants at night, which was mildly satisfying, but the food/drink pacing was all off.   On the first night, for example, they took my drink order shortly after we were seated.  Twenty minutes later, my Chardonnay arrived.  Twenty minutes after that, they took my food order.  Much later, my wine was almost gone.  Then came my dinner.  I asked for another glass of wine at the same time, because I knew my first glass would be gone in two more sips.  I ate painfully slow, making conversation and trying to love my duck gnocchi as I waited for my wine (they didn't have onion rings).  When I was nearly done with my meal, and others were already on dessert, my second glass of wine finally arrived.  By then I was pouting and didn't want it anymore, so I left half a glass in protest. 

Yup, definitely cranky.  And lame.

Fortunately, B-man understands my love affair with food, and walking into the house after a long trip home was a visual and aromatic delight.  Waiting for me was grilled salmon, tilapia and shrimp along with spaghetti and my favorite spicy sauce.  Plus crusty bread with olive oil dip, steamed broccoli and roasted cabbage that was crispy on the edges and tender in the middle. 

And wine whenever I wanted.  Now that's what I call fine dining.

Image from friasproperties.com

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