“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” This quaint piece of advice is older than anyone reading this, and in most cases has nothing to do with a book. It’s typically a preconceived opinion we have about someone or something that turns out to be dead wrong. There are a zillion examples of this adage like that big, mean-looking biker guy in your neighborhood that everyone gets out of the way for who is actually riding his Harley to go read books to sick kids in the hospital. Or, how about that ugly, old dog that no one really liked until he alerted his family that the house was on fire and actually rescued the cat. Yeah him. See what I mean?
There’s an old chef’s adage that says “we eat with our eyes first.”
We’ve all heard it before, and every time we sit down to eat a beautifully artistic dish set in front of us, we live it. Perfectly manicured microgreens, a geometrically optimized angle of splatter for an accompanying sauce to perfectly accentuate an entrée or a Zen-like minimalistic dot or two of a reduction in the midst of a large white plate all toy with our eyes long before our taste buds are invited to come out to play.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
Just because I like to eat and write about my food adventures (thank you to all three of you out there who actually read my rantings), some people think I’m some sort of an authority on what’s good and what isn’t, where to go and where not to.
It’s no secret that Cast Iron Kitchen has become the “go to” spot for breakfast and brunch if you’re anywhere within driving distance of Wilmington.
So you’re sitting there in your living room, probably reading about something awesome on Port City Foodie, when your 3-year-old runs by at warp speed wearing a bath towel tied around his neck as a cape. “Look, I’m Superman!” he yells. You reply, “Uh, yeah, sure buddy, you’re Superman.”
Remember those nature shows on TV where a Bald Eagle is soaring above a picturesque lake and sees a trout something like two miles away then swoops down doing about Mach 2 and grabs the fish in his talons? Well, that’s how I am with tacos. No, seriously, if there are tacos in my general vicinity, I WILL find them and I WILL eat them.
Many moons ago when I was a child, I’d pull out a big catalog and a marker to circle the items I had hoped that Santa would bring me. Not only was this an excellent way to keep me quiet and a way for my parents to plan their shopping excursions, but it built up the holiday hype for me. I’m pretty sure I had all 3,872 items memorized and when we’d rip into the presents on Christmas morning, I always ended up with my top tiered options.
It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of food trucks. They have a special place in my heart and while I might have what some call an obsession for them, I like to think of it as a refined appreciation for culinary artistry on wheels. Regardless, I’m always open to try a new one that crosses my path… or maybe even plan my entire day around the truck, but we all have our weaknesses.