That's unfortunately, a question i get asked quite often. This question crops up when i spend time with people who eventually become my friends as well as views shared by family members who i have never met before, but give me this taken aback look like they couldn't believe what they just heard.
So, whenever the question crops up, instead of explaining things, like i used to earlier, i simply say
"If i were to go to any Cafe or restaurant or whatever, the first drink I'd ask for is Earl Grey"
Only Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) fans will get why I obsess over this tea. Only anime fans will get this reference.
In any case, my cousin explained it far better with a story i had almost forgotten.
Back when my mother had her store in Mantri, we used to go there often and i was, well, for lack of a better word, stuck there. Now, i always took advantage of the situation - food, games, whatever was of access and interest to me were always my top priority. It meant alleviating boredom and escaping from my current confines.
That day, it so happened that it was lunch time and i told my father i was hungry. So, he took me to the Cafe (Cafe Pascucci) he had been talking about for some time now, his current favorite place because it was on the same floor and he could rush to help if need be.
We sat in one of those extremely large impossible to move chairs and settled into our table, waiting for the menu. The waiter appeared after a few moments, appearing as if he were some sort of magic trick, producing two menus from god knows where.
In any case, one menu was handed to me, the other to my father. My father simply glossed over the menu, already set on what he wanted, while i perused through the menu, searching for something new to savour.
And once more, as if by magic, our waiter had disappeared. After more perusal through the menu and learning that my choice was between spaghetti and risotto or something else that was recommended, we decided to finally call the waiter back.
The magical gesture of waving one's hand by showing only two fingers, the pointer and the middle finger, would somehow summon a waiter. It always amazed me, it was like someone drew some sort of summoning circle in the air and therefore the waiter appeared by magic.
And he did make his return, as if by magic. So my father recited his spell "cappuccino and pasta"
Of course, it would seem like a spell, it was as if my father had memorized what he wanted and ordered the same thing every time. Would i become the same? Would i always go by what i knew i liked and order it and be disappointed if it wasn't up to the mark? I watched as a discussion began of the 'type' of pasta.
For the magician who wasn't specific, to me it seemed quite obvious that the magician wasn't bothered by what the 'type' of pasta would end up being, but i knew for a fact that he would not want spaghetti because he found it difficult to eat. Macaroni seemed a bit childish so we went with the 'safe' order of 'penne' or rather i insisted he have the penne. It is only now that i discovered spiralli, a far more comfortable type of pasta to eat. Had i known about it then, i would have ordered that instead for my father.
So now came my order. I recited the spells from the menu and asked which would be better. In gamer terms, that would be a decision between the more powerful spell or choosing between a destructive spell and a healing incantation. However, the waiter could not come up with any satisfactory answer. How could an NPC not know what choice would be better? The NPC always knows what the spell is comprised of, how else would the NPC help you learn a spell?
In this case, the waiter's doomed words were: "Everything is good Ma'am"
The waiter also happened to smile, like that would gloss over his not knowing what was actually good, edible even on the menu. The look he received from me must have been sharp enough to cut through bone, because he hesitated and repeated the same line, like a recorder that knew no other tune.
Of course i would be angry, of course i would be annoyed. I came for food. I wanted to eat something new, different, something that would tantalize my taste buds and this fool that stood here before me was talking to me as if i was like any other person, set and decided on my choice.
I lowered my arms and despite the fact that the Cafe was completely open to the interiors of the mall, none of the sound seemed to reach my ears. The sound that broke the spell was the audible clack that came from the menu as it hit the table. I had been about to speak, when the waiter disappeared once more, like magic.
I sighed. Now a different waiter would arrive, simply because this man wasn't competent enough i thought. He would say "Hey man, I can't handle her. Take my table, would you?"
So i sat back, closed my eyes and waited for a miracle. How could people treat food like it was just something you put in your mouth? A huge part of your life was spent feeding yourself, so that you had enough energy and strength to take on the world, so why didn't people look to eat something different? Something tasty? Or at least, tastier?
Footsteps approached and i sat back up, expecting to have an extremely annoyed conversation that would put me off my food almost entirely. So imagine my surprise when a foreigner stands beside me. He also looked Italian, not that i know any better, but still. He also had a black apron he was wearing, tied around the waist. This was very different from the waiter's outfit, a very silly looking hat with a pad and slacks and a shirt.
Very different. He kneeled beside me and i completely ignored everything. I told him about my choices and he looked through the menu before asking me if i would prefer my pasta vegetarian or non vegetarian. When we confirmed on the non vegetarian, he earmarked two very different spaghetti dishes for me. One he explained was dry and should have been had with some particular wine that i couldn't be bothered to remember at this point, while the other had a sauce and wasn't dry and could be had by itself.
Obviously, i was very pleased with the man. After all, he was an unexpected miracle. My heart was sold. Someone understood how serious i was about food and gave me two options, both considered the best on the menu. So of course, i ordered the one with sauce in it because i wasn't exactly at an age where i could drink (i still wouldn't drink because it tastes disgusting) and he disappeared like magic.
The one who brought the food in the end was the waiter who came initially. He served us and skedaddled. This i openly admit made me happy because i could peacefully enjoy my food without anyone breathing down my neck.
The pasta was al dente, the sauce perfect, slightly chunky, a lovely texture and of excellent flavour. The spaghetti was easily captured by my fork and could just as easily have been slurped into my mouth, a light taste of olive oil, with the tomato and hint of parsley and ingredients i can't name. the spaghetti won me over and made my day.
But the point of the story was, i had the chef himself give me a recommendation. That's how posh i can be considered or rather, that's how seriously i take food. I'm known for being an extremely fussy eater at home. True story.
Now, i've done a lot of stupid things in life, but there are times when i look back on a memory and i facepalm. Simply because that's what the memory deserves. Not a cringe, but a facepalm.
This particular memory isn't very old, but i find it hard to remember all the details because well, i just got off my liquid diet (broke my teeth in. that's a story that you guys won't like so maybe some other time) and sadly, i was also slightly embarrassed because of my aunt. I have . . . issues.
In any case, i believe this was at Aioli, in the evening. The idea was something about letting me have a good time, but sadly neither me nor my cousin were old enough to go places without adult supervision. So, well, i was stuck with my aunt and uncle and my cousin.
Now don't get me wrong, i love my cousin, she's awesome. Just . . . sigh. Nevermind.
So, we sit at a nice comfy table where the chairs aren't heavy and you can actually move them and the chairs are designed so you can actually use the backrest, we're ready and prepared for whatever horrors the kitchen might bring out (just kidding the food at Aioli's pretty awesome).
Seated and given water, menus in our hands, we look through it. I remember rejecting a lot of dishes because i said i couldn't cut it and so on and so forth, and guess what i settled on? Lamb chops.
Because that's precisely the kind of dish you want to eat when your dentist has told you specifically NOT to 'tear' meat. He said cut things if you must before you eat it. Figuring out how to eat a burger after that was a very confusing experience. i'm used to it now.
Back to the story. So, our waiter graciously takes our order, we make small conversation as we wait for the food - starters main course, dessert and all. The starter arrives and i can tell you, it was absolutely delicious.
Roasted potato i believe it was. So from what i can gauge, the potatoes are sliced in half, with the peel on and are topped with a few veggies, some coriander and the king that brings it all together - cheese! They're of course extremely hot, and best eaten when they're too hot to put in your mouth because otherwise they aren't half as delectable. in any case, the crunch of the potato, the soft texture of the potato itself as the crunch of vegetables and the gooey cheese that brings it all together is absolute bliss.
Conversation had stopped by this time and no sooner than we had finished our starters, the main dishes were brought out. So, lamb chops. I think stared for it for quite some time trying to figure out how i was going to eat the thing. My cousin ordered the same thing and i watched her pick up a tissue from those cute little tissue holders they have, pick up a lamb chop with the tissue's help and bite into it. There is absolute bliss written on her face.
I go back to staring at my plate. Then ever so slowly, i pick up my fork and knife. Not one for hesitation any longer, i stab my meat with my fork and slowly cut away the meat from the bone . . . and fat and maybe even some cartilage or something. It does not work. So, instead, i cut away a smaller piece and put it in my mouth.
Soft, chewy, the seasoning perfect, the meat slowly dissolves on my palate, making my mouth water. It was better than good, it was great. So painstakingly, i cut away whatever meat i can off the bone and savour each bite, like i had never eaten meat before. It was spicy yes, but not so spicy that the side of mashed potatoes didn't take the heat off. The char on it was just right, to keep you going for that next bite.
By the time we had finished, i was happy and satisfied. The lamb chops were perfect. The waiter made a grand return and asked us if we enjoyed our meal. Of course we all nodded, murmured agreements, and then
"Send my compliments to the chef"
This is my facepalm moment. The waiter obviously gave me this extremely confused look and stood expectantly and in a very confused manner before me. So i repeated myself, like that would make it any more obvious. It didn't.
Needless to say, i should've shooed him off and told him to bring the chef or something to thank the guy personally, but i was just kind of confused then so i left it at that.
And over the years, i've found that in restaurants the waiters trip over themselves to serve me first and make sure i'm a happy customer because apparently i look like some kind of troublesome character (or a food critic. i like to dream okay. let me have my dream) and they need to make sure their restaurant/cafe/whatever is safe.
So, that is how 'posh' i can be if that can even be considered a definition towards posh. Which leaves me with the question. How posh are you?
So, whenever the question crops up, instead of explaining things, like i used to earlier, i simply say
"If i were to go to any Cafe or restaurant or whatever, the first drink I'd ask for is Earl Grey"
Only Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) fans will get why I obsess over this tea. Only anime fans will get this reference.
In any case, my cousin explained it far better with a story i had almost forgotten.
Back when my mother had her store in Mantri, we used to go there often and i was, well, for lack of a better word, stuck there. Now, i always took advantage of the situation - food, games, whatever was of access and interest to me were always my top priority. It meant alleviating boredom and escaping from my current confines.
That day, it so happened that it was lunch time and i told my father i was hungry. So, he took me to the Cafe (Cafe Pascucci) he had been talking about for some time now, his current favorite place because it was on the same floor and he could rush to help if need be.
We sat in one of those extremely large impossible to move chairs and settled into our table, waiting for the menu. The waiter appeared after a few moments, appearing as if he were some sort of magic trick, producing two menus from god knows where.
In any case, one menu was handed to me, the other to my father. My father simply glossed over the menu, already set on what he wanted, while i perused through the menu, searching for something new to savour.
And once more, as if by magic, our waiter had disappeared. After more perusal through the menu and learning that my choice was between spaghetti and risotto or something else that was recommended, we decided to finally call the waiter back.
The magical gesture of waving one's hand by showing only two fingers, the pointer and the middle finger, would somehow summon a waiter. It always amazed me, it was like someone drew some sort of summoning circle in the air and therefore the waiter appeared by magic.
And he did make his return, as if by magic. So my father recited his spell "cappuccino and pasta"
Of course, it would seem like a spell, it was as if my father had memorized what he wanted and ordered the same thing every time. Would i become the same? Would i always go by what i knew i liked and order it and be disappointed if it wasn't up to the mark? I watched as a discussion began of the 'type' of pasta.
For the magician who wasn't specific, to me it seemed quite obvious that the magician wasn't bothered by what the 'type' of pasta would end up being, but i knew for a fact that he would not want spaghetti because he found it difficult to eat. Macaroni seemed a bit childish so we went with the 'safe' order of 'penne' or rather i insisted he have the penne. It is only now that i discovered spiralli, a far more comfortable type of pasta to eat. Had i known about it then, i would have ordered that instead for my father.
So now came my order. I recited the spells from the menu and asked which would be better. In gamer terms, that would be a decision between the more powerful spell or choosing between a destructive spell and a healing incantation. However, the waiter could not come up with any satisfactory answer. How could an NPC not know what choice would be better? The NPC always knows what the spell is comprised of, how else would the NPC help you learn a spell?
In this case, the waiter's doomed words were: "Everything is good Ma'am"
The waiter also happened to smile, like that would gloss over his not knowing what was actually good, edible even on the menu. The look he received from me must have been sharp enough to cut through bone, because he hesitated and repeated the same line, like a recorder that knew no other tune.
Of course i would be angry, of course i would be annoyed. I came for food. I wanted to eat something new, different, something that would tantalize my taste buds and this fool that stood here before me was talking to me as if i was like any other person, set and decided on my choice.
I lowered my arms and despite the fact that the Cafe was completely open to the interiors of the mall, none of the sound seemed to reach my ears. The sound that broke the spell was the audible clack that came from the menu as it hit the table. I had been about to speak, when the waiter disappeared once more, like magic.
I sighed. Now a different waiter would arrive, simply because this man wasn't competent enough i thought. He would say "Hey man, I can't handle her. Take my table, would you?"
So i sat back, closed my eyes and waited for a miracle. How could people treat food like it was just something you put in your mouth? A huge part of your life was spent feeding yourself, so that you had enough energy and strength to take on the world, so why didn't people look to eat something different? Something tasty? Or at least, tastier?
Footsteps approached and i sat back up, expecting to have an extremely annoyed conversation that would put me off my food almost entirely. So imagine my surprise when a foreigner stands beside me. He also looked Italian, not that i know any better, but still. He also had a black apron he was wearing, tied around the waist. This was very different from the waiter's outfit, a very silly looking hat with a pad and slacks and a shirt.
Very different. He kneeled beside me and i completely ignored everything. I told him about my choices and he looked through the menu before asking me if i would prefer my pasta vegetarian or non vegetarian. When we confirmed on the non vegetarian, he earmarked two very different spaghetti dishes for me. One he explained was dry and should have been had with some particular wine that i couldn't be bothered to remember at this point, while the other had a sauce and wasn't dry and could be had by itself.
Obviously, i was very pleased with the man. After all, he was an unexpected miracle. My heart was sold. Someone understood how serious i was about food and gave me two options, both considered the best on the menu. So of course, i ordered the one with sauce in it because i wasn't exactly at an age where i could drink (i still wouldn't drink because it tastes disgusting) and he disappeared like magic.
The one who brought the food in the end was the waiter who came initially. He served us and skedaddled. This i openly admit made me happy because i could peacefully enjoy my food without anyone breathing down my neck.
The pasta was al dente, the sauce perfect, slightly chunky, a lovely texture and of excellent flavour. The spaghetti was easily captured by my fork and could just as easily have been slurped into my mouth, a light taste of olive oil, with the tomato and hint of parsley and ingredients i can't name. the spaghetti won me over and made my day.
But the point of the story was, i had the chef himself give me a recommendation. That's how posh i can be considered or rather, that's how seriously i take food. I'm known for being an extremely fussy eater at home. True story.
Now, i've done a lot of stupid things in life, but there are times when i look back on a memory and i facepalm. Simply because that's what the memory deserves. Not a cringe, but a facepalm.
This particular memory isn't very old, but i find it hard to remember all the details because well, i just got off my liquid diet (broke my teeth in. that's a story that you guys won't like so maybe some other time) and sadly, i was also slightly embarrassed because of my aunt. I have . . . issues.
In any case, i believe this was at Aioli, in the evening. The idea was something about letting me have a good time, but sadly neither me nor my cousin were old enough to go places without adult supervision. So, well, i was stuck with my aunt and uncle and my cousin.
Now don't get me wrong, i love my cousin, she's awesome. Just . . . sigh. Nevermind.
So, we sit at a nice comfy table where the chairs aren't heavy and you can actually move them and the chairs are designed so you can actually use the backrest, we're ready and prepared for whatever horrors the kitchen might bring out (just kidding the food at Aioli's pretty awesome).
Seated and given water, menus in our hands, we look through it. I remember rejecting a lot of dishes because i said i couldn't cut it and so on and so forth, and guess what i settled on? Lamb chops.
Because that's precisely the kind of dish you want to eat when your dentist has told you specifically NOT to 'tear' meat. He said cut things if you must before you eat it. Figuring out how to eat a burger after that was a very confusing experience. i'm used to it now.
Back to the story. So, our waiter graciously takes our order, we make small conversation as we wait for the food - starters main course, dessert and all. The starter arrives and i can tell you, it was absolutely delicious.
Roasted potato i believe it was. So from what i can gauge, the potatoes are sliced in half, with the peel on and are topped with a few veggies, some coriander and the king that brings it all together - cheese! They're of course extremely hot, and best eaten when they're too hot to put in your mouth because otherwise they aren't half as delectable. in any case, the crunch of the potato, the soft texture of the potato itself as the crunch of vegetables and the gooey cheese that brings it all together is absolute bliss.
Conversation had stopped by this time and no sooner than we had finished our starters, the main dishes were brought out. So, lamb chops. I think stared for it for quite some time trying to figure out how i was going to eat the thing. My cousin ordered the same thing and i watched her pick up a tissue from those cute little tissue holders they have, pick up a lamb chop with the tissue's help and bite into it. There is absolute bliss written on her face.
I go back to staring at my plate. Then ever so slowly, i pick up my fork and knife. Not one for hesitation any longer, i stab my meat with my fork and slowly cut away the meat from the bone . . . and fat and maybe even some cartilage or something. It does not work. So, instead, i cut away a smaller piece and put it in my mouth.
Soft, chewy, the seasoning perfect, the meat slowly dissolves on my palate, making my mouth water. It was better than good, it was great. So painstakingly, i cut away whatever meat i can off the bone and savour each bite, like i had never eaten meat before. It was spicy yes, but not so spicy that the side of mashed potatoes didn't take the heat off. The char on it was just right, to keep you going for that next bite.
By the time we had finished, i was happy and satisfied. The lamb chops were perfect. The waiter made a grand return and asked us if we enjoyed our meal. Of course we all nodded, murmured agreements, and then
"Send my compliments to the chef"
This is my facepalm moment. The waiter obviously gave me this extremely confused look and stood expectantly and in a very confused manner before me. So i repeated myself, like that would make it any more obvious. It didn't.
Needless to say, i should've shooed him off and told him to bring the chef or something to thank the guy personally, but i was just kind of confused then so i left it at that.
And over the years, i've found that in restaurants the waiters trip over themselves to serve me first and make sure i'm a happy customer because apparently i look like some kind of troublesome character (or a food critic. i like to dream okay. let me have my dream) and they need to make sure their restaurant/cafe/whatever is safe.
So, that is how 'posh' i can be if that can even be considered a definition towards posh. Which leaves me with the question. How posh are you?
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