The Menu

A friend of mine I used to work with is several years younger than me, and so is decidedly prone to do what people who are younger than 72 and under 50 do: they use emojis; they use Twitter shorthand, even when not using Twitter, e.g. LOL, LMAO, ICYMI, FOMO. At the outset I had to Google some of these, but no longer. While I myself do not use these abbreviations, I've grown to know what they mean.

This friend of mine likes food, is a good cook, and is not shy about telling me what she's had to eat at the latest restaurant she and her boyfriend have visited. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, I get a menu's worth description of what they had to eat. 

Since she moved to the middle of Suffolk County I don't see her as often as I once did, but I do get emails. And usually any one email will tell me what Melissa and David ate over the weekend, and where. The latest dispatch arrived today and told me what was in store for them in Riverhead over the weekend.

"Last weekend Dave and I went out to the Country Farm Kitchen in Riverhead and it was amazing! They actually have you sit right along Riverhead river and the food was outrageous!! For appetizers we had  goat cheese with lavender on toast topped with fresh blackberries, blueberries and strawberries. It was AMAZING!! Crab cakes DELICIOUS!!! Dave had risotto with scallops and I had a chicken dish. Definitely rated as one of our favorite restaurants."

I'm not being mean, but my mouth didn't water at reading any of this. And I'm hungry right now. I haven't finished breakfast. "Goat cheese with lavender on toast" is beyond anything I can visualize, let along guess as to what it might taste like. I'm glad they liked it, and a trip to the E.R. didn't ensue.

As I read this and checked for attachments, I realized there were no photos of their repasts. This is unusual, because people their age tend to whip out the cell phone and snap images of what they're eating. I sometimes get them from my youngest daughter when she's about to dive into a plate of oysters. I like oysters, but images of them do nothing for my palate.

I didn't sarcastically write back and ask "where are the photos?" I didn't need do. Within a few minutes two photos arrived of the dishes they were consuming.

Aside from the mystery of lavender there was nothing that was described that didn't sound like something I'd eat myself. And the photos reinforced the appeal of the descriptions.

Taking photos of what I'm about to eat is not something I'd do. And I suspect most people of my vintage are not prone to do so either. I've never even found myself contemplating describing what I was about to eat in an email. I might mention I ate out, and where, and if it was good or not, but no more than that—if that.

But being an incontrovertible wise-ass, I'd love to be able to flash an image of my gastric intake—any gastric intake—as it clears the pyloric valve and heads for the small intestine. 

Unfortunately, this would entail a fluoroscopy, or portable x-ray, and likely a co-pay added to the check. Logistically, I can't see it happening.

But I'd still love to be able to do it.

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