Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Seeing Me In A Kitchen Is On Par With Seeing A Sasquatch


I am no foodie.

People are often flummoxed when they hear that I'm not into food and cooking. They wonder how I eat. Well, how do single men eat? They buy a sandwich or they have a few staple dishes that get them through the day. For me, it's couscous, cucumber salads, hard boiled egg whites and lots of fruit. I don't eat a lot of fast food or processed food, either. A meal for me meal pretty much involves chopping up some vegetables, fruit and drizzling on some rice vinegar. It's underrated.

For whatever reason, food is not a pleasure center for me. (Later today we will delve into what really gets me excited.) I eat so that I don't pass out. In New York City, to not be a foodie is on par with blasphemy. My eyes glaze over when people tell me about restaurants, or meals they want to cook. I'm not being rude, but it's akin to talking to a burly construction worker about your nail polish collection. I'm just not interested.

I'm also no sore sport, and this weekend some lady friends and I took a pizza cooking class at Le Pain Quotidien on Bleecker Street. This is notable because had they not suggested it, I never would have thought to do it. (Obviously.) In terms of a communal activity, it was great fun, even if when everyone starting talking about kitchen gadgets I felt as it I was listening to people speak in hieroglyphics. I'm not saying that I'm going to the dark side of food enthusiast, but it was a good time.

Le Pain Quotidien has all sorts of cooking classes. They fill up very fast, so be sure to get on their e-mail blast. Private classes are available, like the one we did, so book them way in advance.

P.S. I may not love the act of cooking, but those baker's hats were pretty cool.