A Brief Summation of Expected Elements
A lawyer will, in his opening lines to the court, explain his goal and his projected plan for the case about to be exposed to the room and those within it. I do not have a specific goal with this blog. Nor do I have anything in mind that one could anticipate in following it. However, I shall begin with a simple story....
Forget the story. We'll analyze a simple event. "Yesterday I was introduced to a world of cultural experiences for my palate. Well maybe not a world, maybe just a country. It is a big country, though. I had the pleasure of trying Indian cuisine. Now, growing up in El Paso, you don't get much exposure to other cultures unless you go out of the city. The food is Mexican. The culture is Mexican. The people are, for the most part, well- Mexicans. Don't get me wrong now, the food is great. But for someone who's relied on burritos for three-quarters of her weekly diet, something as different as Indian food has a shocking effect on the tongue. As I entered the restaurant, I was quite oblivious as to what I could expect. Maybe some spice? Maybe some egg in meat? Well, undoubtely when sitting down, I was taken aback when I noticed a green, salsa-like dip in the middle of the table. In my mind I had envisioned something squishy for an appetizer. This is also due to my ignorance and inexposure to foods of other cultures. But this indeed did look like something I could relate to. Then, on tasting the salsa, realizing it was the suspected blend of cilantro and chile; I smiled, wallowing in the familiar sensation from the combination. "This is definitely something I can hack", I thought. Maybe at this point I got a bit overconfident. Scanning the menu, I figured I could take anything they'd serve me. So I was in complete agreement when our party decided to order a dinner with several courses, to get a taste of a little bit of everything. First up was the soup. Our server, an older gentlemen with gray hair and dark skin, undoubtely Indian himself; had a soft face and a kind smile. All four in our party were promtly served by this amiable fellow. The bowls before our faces, we saw the steam rising from the freshly-made stew. It was creamy-orange with shredded bits of chicken and parsley. Intrigued mainly by the colors, and also by the texture, I took a single sip. It had the creamy taste that I expected, with a little bit of lemon. With the chicken added, my mind was a bit skeptical about whether I liked it or not. So I took more small sips to determine my decision. While I was busy with my small sips, everyone else seemed to love their soups, and finished when I was a third of the way through. They were going on to the next course and, not wanting to be left out, I moved on as well. Next up we were brought little fried pieces of what looked like onions with a brown type of dipping sauce. Now I am a very big onion fan. I'm a fan of all types and colors, actually. So, not discouraged from the skepticism of the last course, I eagerly tried a piece. Then I tried a second. Watching my friends' smiling faces and excitement at diving into more, I began to wonder if something was wrong with my taste buds. I didn't like the batter, it was too thick and the sauce wasn't doing much for me either. Determined to fix my taste buds, or train them, I kept going along eating just as much as my companions, all of us laughing and telling interesting stories of travel all the while. I was pretty glad when the server, who in my head I called Sonny, came by with our third course, as I felt I was just stuffing myself with fried batter. We each received two small platters of mixed vegetables and curried chicken. I served a spoonful of each of these onto my plate. I took a small bite. I was eating potatoes with a sauce. Next bite. Something in red sauce with a hint of spice. I was going for my third bite when Sonny joyfully swung by with steaming platters piled high with a variety of grilled vegetables and meats. The smell was very pleasant to me, It smelled of grilled onions. Mmm.. So happily switching over to these, I took a bit of chicken and vegetables for my plate. It was as I was meticulously cutting an inch-long slither of onions into three pieces that it occurred to me- I don't like Indian food. With this attitude in mind, one can only envison how the rest of the courses went. There's no need to delve into that. By the end of the night, with my three companions fighting for left-overs, myself feigning I was stuffed, I bid farewell to Sonny with a smile and a nod, and got into my car. I sat there. Mostly thinking that I had spent twenty dollars and I was still hungry; but also wondering what went wrong. I should have eaten like a queen from the six courses and been scrambling for a take-home box just like my friends. I contemplated this as I slowly drove back home. Could it be that I was just a victim of inexposure? A victim of my sheltered upbringing? In my kitchen, eating my bowls of Lucky Charm to appease my hunger, inside I was nodding ...yes." -contributed by a friend.
Forget the story. We'll analyze a simple event. "Yesterday I was introduced to a world of cultural experiences for my palate. Well maybe not a world, maybe just a country. It is a big country, though. I had the pleasure of trying Indian cuisine. Now, growing up in El Paso, you don't get much exposure to other cultures unless you go out of the city. The food is Mexican. The culture is Mexican. The people are, for the most part, well- Mexicans. Don't get me wrong now, the food is great. But for someone who's relied on burritos for three-quarters of her weekly diet, something as different as Indian food has a shocking effect on the tongue. As I entered the restaurant, I was quite oblivious as to what I could expect. Maybe some spice? Maybe some egg in meat? Well, undoubtely when sitting down, I was taken aback when I noticed a green, salsa-like dip in the middle of the table. In my mind I had envisioned something squishy for an appetizer. This is also due to my ignorance and inexposure to foods of other cultures. But this indeed did look like something I could relate to. Then, on tasting the salsa, realizing it was the suspected blend of cilantro and chile; I smiled, wallowing in the familiar sensation from the combination. "This is definitely something I can hack", I thought. Maybe at this point I got a bit overconfident. Scanning the menu, I figured I could take anything they'd serve me. So I was in complete agreement when our party decided to order a dinner with several courses, to get a taste of a little bit of everything. First up was the soup. Our server, an older gentlemen with gray hair and dark skin, undoubtely Indian himself; had a soft face and a kind smile. All four in our party were promtly served by this amiable fellow. The bowls before our faces, we saw the steam rising from the freshly-made stew. It was creamy-orange with shredded bits of chicken and parsley. Intrigued mainly by the colors, and also by the texture, I took a single sip. It had the creamy taste that I expected, with a little bit of lemon. With the chicken added, my mind was a bit skeptical about whether I liked it or not. So I took more small sips to determine my decision. While I was busy with my small sips, everyone else seemed to love their soups, and finished when I was a third of the way through. They were going on to the next course and, not wanting to be left out, I moved on as well. Next up we were brought little fried pieces of what looked like onions with a brown type of dipping sauce. Now I am a very big onion fan. I'm a fan of all types and colors, actually. So, not discouraged from the skepticism of the last course, I eagerly tried a piece. Then I tried a second. Watching my friends' smiling faces and excitement at diving into more, I began to wonder if something was wrong with my taste buds. I didn't like the batter, it was too thick and the sauce wasn't doing much for me either. Determined to fix my taste buds, or train them, I kept going along eating just as much as my companions, all of us laughing and telling interesting stories of travel all the while. I was pretty glad when the server, who in my head I called Sonny, came by with our third course, as I felt I was just stuffing myself with fried batter. We each received two small platters of mixed vegetables and curried chicken. I served a spoonful of each of these onto my plate. I took a small bite. I was eating potatoes with a sauce. Next bite. Something in red sauce with a hint of spice. I was going for my third bite when Sonny joyfully swung by with steaming platters piled high with a variety of grilled vegetables and meats. The smell was very pleasant to me, It smelled of grilled onions. Mmm.. So happily switching over to these, I took a bit of chicken and vegetables for my plate. It was as I was meticulously cutting an inch-long slither of onions into three pieces that it occurred to me- I don't like Indian food. With this attitude in mind, one can only envison how the rest of the courses went. There's no need to delve into that. By the end of the night, with my three companions fighting for left-overs, myself feigning I was stuffed, I bid farewell to Sonny with a smile and a nod, and got into my car. I sat there. Mostly thinking that I had spent twenty dollars and I was still hungry; but also wondering what went wrong. I should have eaten like a queen from the six courses and been scrambling for a take-home box just like my friends. I contemplated this as I slowly drove back home. Could it be that I was just a victim of inexposure? A victim of my sheltered upbringing? In my kitchen, eating my bowls of Lucky Charm to appease my hunger, inside I was nodding ...yes." -contributed by a friend.