I spent a lot of my time as a child driving my family to the brink of insanity with my terribly picky eating. I’ll never forget a day at my grandparents in New Hope when my grandmother, Oma, made the terrible mistake of cooking us turkey burgers. I would have eaten turkey off the breast without batting an eye, but for some reason, I just wouldn’t budge when it came in patty form. Oma was so sweet that she probably relented by the end of the night and fed me something else, but I know for a fact that I didn’t touch that turkey burger. Little jerk I was.
But nowadays, I’m a philosopher at heart – not that I have any published material out there. But I believe in a community of voices. It’s in our best interest to open our ears and our minds to any and all who wish to make their voice heard, regardless of any preconditions; if we do otherwise, we’re depriving ourselves of a perspective other than ours, which is inherently valuable in and of itself. If I choose to dismiss an idea before hearing it out fully, I’m either missing out on understanding some degree of merit that it might bear, or losing a chance to logically reaffirm my own contrasting views as the better perspective between the two. In both cases, an opportunity is lost. And believe you me, there’s nothing I hate more than a missed opportunity.
With that in mind, the last few years have seen me slowly emerge from my happy little shell of cheeseburgers and fries, and start eating foods that I would never have entertained in the past. And our trip is a golden opportunity to embrace exactly that philosophy, by eating whatever passes over my plate and deciding if it’s something I could allow as a part of my diet. Thanks to a comfortably speedy metabolism, I don’t give much thought to any long-term consequences of what I’m eating – which I’ll certainly regret in about 20 years. But for now, if it tastes good, it’s in. And already I’ve used this trip as a means for some spectacular culinary adventures, like indulging in a half-smoke in D.C., a crabcake in Maryland and New York pizza in Brooklyn.
We followed with a fish burger, which wasn’t too unique – more of a fried fish sandwich than a burger – but certainly tasty in its own right. Along with this, we ordered a lobster roll; and until this day, I’d expected a lobster roll to look something like a pepperoni roll, which is just a ball of dough with cheese and pepperoni riddled throughout.
P.S. Thanks to Dr. Coleen Zoller for the title of this post.