Tuesday, March 6, 2012
I'm not a fine-dining type of girl. I'm used to eating in noisy, sweaty hawker centres. Most of my favourite food are not served in small portions on an oversized, decorated, white plate.
However, there have been instances where i was blessed to sample food that my bank account cannot usually afford. Then there have also been times where i was given the opportunity to expand my 'food network' to incorporate medium-done beef (not as yucky as i thought), macaroons (so sweet can die), monk fish liver (not my thing) and truffle (now i finally know why rich people rave about it).
During my first and so far, only, fine-dining experience last year courtesy of a food channel, i became a nervous wreck when they seated me at my table. As if being under-dressed in a crowd of expensive suits and dresses wasn't intimidating enough, i sat down to see three different forks and three different knives staring at me. My first thought, "Fuck. Which one to use for which course?".
Not wanting to stare at people while they eat, i decided to wing it. I went with the nearest set of cutleries. Of course, i was wrong--you do it from the furthest to the nearest. Then, i repeated the same mistake at another recent lunch event and somehow, i have a feeling that there is going to be a third time.
Oh well, what can you expect from a girl who uses one set of cutlery for everything--soup, main course, dessert--in her everyday life? Heck, sometimes i don't even use cutleries!