Rose Law Group Reporter Gripe of the Week
By Phil Riske, managing editor
Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam . . .
That’s a line from a song about Wyoming, my home state, and if you’re from the Rocky Mountain West, you’re a meat and potatoes guy. You drink wine from a box, without all the sniffing the bouquet, lip/tongue sampling, swishing in the goblet and intellectual discussions common among what I call wine snobs.
When I left Wyoming for Washington, D.C. I discovered there also are food snobs, not only by the types of dishes preferred, but also how they’re served.
You’ve probably heard the joke about the diner who ordered steak tartare “medium well.” Well, that was me before a dinner at the upscale Palms Restaurant in downtown D.C.
Who in the world would eat raw beef? Food snobs.
At another dinner in the Nation’s Capitol, I nearly spit out a spoonful of what I though was tomato soup.
I turned to my wife and said the host should be told the soup is cold.
“It’s vichyssoise, you idiot,” she said.
Who in the hell wants cold soup? Food snobs.
After the main course, here comes salad.
What? Salad at the end of the meal? You’re kidding.
No kidding among food snobs.
Quiche Lorraine? No thanks. Sushi? Ugh. Forget all that foo foo food.
Whenever food is discussed. I become the subject of ridicule when I mention I like canned peas. People scream at the top of their lungs, CANNED PEAS? AHHHHRGH!
Damn food snobs. Who wants peas that are all wrinkly, I ask you?
I must admit I know only one other person who likes canned peas — my doctor!
Well, I’m off to have a side of buffalo, a stack of mashed potatoes and gravy and canned peas.
Have a nice dinner.
