Foodie (?)

Not really. This new, self-proclaimed title was brought about by an entire day I spent sampling the food offered by different caterers for my wedding.

Also, a “Foodie” is:

A person that spends a keen amount of attention and energy on knowing the ingredients of food, the proper preparation of food, and finds great enjoyment in top-notch ingredients and exemplary preparation.
A foodie is not necessarily a food snob, only enjoying delicacies and/or food items difficult to obtain and/or expensive foods; though, that is a variety of foodie.

I don’t know about the “finds great enjoyment in top-notch ingredients and exemplary preparation” part because really, the fact that I am hungry about 80% of all my waking hours means that I find “great enjoyment” in anything that has to do with putting things, which have flavor, in my mouth. (cock, for one, isn’t particularly tasty and, at most, only has this distinct saltiness to it. That said, I do enjoy putting cock in my mouth, but I digress)

I’m not too sure about finding “great enjoyment” in exemplary preparation too. I mean, you are reading the blog of a guy who, only 2 days ago, ate a sandwich he made hastily and sloppily with two slices of bread, cold luncheon meat and mayonnaise that apparently expired May last year.

But good God! My recent obsession with food has reached new, frightening heights! Yesterday, I went to one of my wedding caterer’s food tasting events to sample the kind of pasta they offer. I was particularly keen on sampling their tomato-based pasta sauce. I know, I know, red sauce on pasta is for yuppies and homosexuals but because the last time I ate pasta with white sauce, I got a bad case of the runs. I’ve been avoiding it ever since. Besides, as a bonafide member of several international, interracial porn fan clubs, my mantra has always been “if you go white, that’s not right!” or something like that.

(alright, I just read the last sentence of that paragraph again and that didn’t really make sense nor was it funny. I’m sorry but really, shut up. This is free)

Anyway, almost as soon as I walked into the pavilion where the food tasting event was being held, a guy asked me if I wanted to try their roast beef with gravy, which as he so proudly and effeminately claimed to be “USDA beef” (whatever the fuck that means, right?”

At first, I said “No”. I mean, I know that, at food tastings, you’re supposed to sample all the food items the caterer has to offer but really, you’d have second thoughts about it if a really gay sales executive is blabbering on and on about such things as the “tenderness” and “texture” of the beef while you’re just standing there nodding like an idiot, thinking “It’s beef. What the fuck are you talking about?” and feeling compelled to say something that would make you sound like like you know what he’s talking about.

Caterer’s Sales Executive: “How are you liking the gravy so far sir? For that, we used fine herbs we imported from South America, mushrooms from China and a tinge of expensive Chilean wine”

Me: [wiping my mouth with the sleeves of my shirt] Yeah dude, it’s awesome!

Caterer’s Sales Executive: “Well that’s really funny considering what you just ate isn’t gravy. It’s actually raw sewage, soy sauce and bits of tissue paper”

Me: [saving face] But it’s delicious! You totally sold me on this! I’m getting you guys as the caterer for my wedding!

Caterer’s Sales Executive: “Sir, I would have to ask you to leave or I will be forced to call security.”

However, almost as soon as I said “no” to trying out the roast beef, the little voice in my head–the same voice that tells me stuff like “Dude, you know what would be really wicked? If you stole that kid’s bike and jump it off a bridge into the Pasig river” and “You could totally jump and fly off from this second story window. All you need to do is that blanket for a cape and some happy thoughts”–told me “Dude, do you realize you just turned down that guy’s offer for free food? Also, get some cake for me” So I acquiesed and got some roast beef from the guy, girl whatever.

It was really uncomfortable. The guy went on and on about something called “mesquite marinade” and after 5 minutes of blabbering on and on, I went ahead and said “Thank you, I’ll go around and try other stuff first, but really, the beef is great! If I do decide to get you guys as my caterer, I’ll definitely have it on my menu!” I found out that saying something to that effect is probably the only way to get these people to shut up.

And thus, began my downward spiral to gluttony. In the next hour and a half, I went around eating everything in sight and I probably had ten or so sales executives following me around asking me “Sir, can I help you?” They probably saw through me and how I’m trying to abuse the entire food tasting thing and I couldn’t blame them for that. But it did get annoying and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to snap and scream “God FUCKING Dammit! Yes I’m abusing the free food and the free flowing drinks okay!? But can’t you have a little decency in you to leave an obviously starving overweight man and his food alone for five minutes!?”

Everything ended well though. I walked away with a little more culture in me, knowing that “Spring Rolls” is just a fancy way of saying “Lumpiang Sariwa” and, after using my charm (which the caterers probably mistook for obnoxious persistence), I ended up getting tons of freebies and a good price from them.

Now, I wonder how my negotiations with the photographers and videographers will go.

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