Everything was new. There were no reference points, reviews, or taste tests. We had not been to this restaurant and did not know anyone who had. The dishes were familiar, yet there was an unusual twist or two with each. The only guidance came from the description of each dish on the menu. The setting included a cool breeze, fading sun, and casual ambiance. All in all, this was a great space for experimentation.
My review of options kept looping back to the same dish. I could not figure out why. Pad Thai noodles are not at the top of my favourite style of noodles. I cannot recall ever having a craving for this dish. Additionally, with the addition of homemade kimchi framing the dish, I had doubts and reservations.
I really wanted to ask someone, anyone, for a view. I had so many questions and nowhere to land them. I could not see the dish on the tables around me. The menu was just text. My imagined dish was born out of a low-resolution picture from a Google review on my mobile phone.
In hindsight, I am glad I went into my taste test blind. I seemed to remember the old “line from Scripture, “It’s because of you Jews that the outsiders are down on God,” shows it’s an old problem that isn’t going to go away.” (Romans 2.24) In my case, there were no insider views setting expectations or limiting the possibilities. Everything was on the table without boundaries, limits, or targets.
The presentation was helpful. I found myself thinking of comfort food taken to a new level. My senses were seduced by the aromas revealing and hinting at the contributing ingredients. The contrasting elements in the dish visually challenged me, increasing my desire for the first taste.
As the dish unfolded, I was taken to different places, each wonderful in its own way. I found myself texting a friend just starting his day. My texts included dish pictures and tasting notes. I hoped he was virtually experiencing my discovery. I want more.
