I was watching one of those yogic healers on a cable channel run by tree-hugging granola-heads the other day and I have no idea why. Anyway, he was talking about eating and asked his viewers to think about what their relationship with food was, and I thought to myself: “What relationship with food? There is no relationship, it’s not an equal thing, food and me; I eat it, it gets eaten, that’s it. No negotiation, no discussion, only digestion!
I mean, call me crazy but to me, a relationship is where I compromise my values and self-esteem by dropping everything in my life to be with a man who I’m constantly having to prove my self-worth to, by showing lots of cleavage, giggling, and picking him up at his place when he doesn’t have a car. Now that’s a relationship!
I did get jealous of food once though. It was a lapse in judgement, I’ll admit, since there’s absolutely no need, whatsoever, for me to be jealous of food. But I did because it completely caught me off guard since it was good… almost as good as mine, which is why I got jealous in the first place… of Caesar salad dressing! Which is ridiculous since I happen to make the best Caesar salad dressing in the entire county… nay, the entire state! In fact, it’s so good, people are always begging me for the recipe, and just like sex… they ain’t gonna get it!
Then this place comes along and makes one almost as good as mine! You’d think I’d be happy that I found a place where they make delicious Caesar salad dressing, since its preparation is time-consuming and leaves me with the smell of garlic on my fingers for a week, but I wasn’t! Let’s put it this way: Clever Girl has to be the best! I still am, thank God, because like I mentioned, this dressing is almost as good as mine. Almost, but not quite. It’s a bit too close for comfort though but what can I do? I certainly can’t sabotage their dressing… I couldn’t possibly infiltrate their place of business by posing as a chef and ruining…
Uh, let’s change the subject.
I went to The Yard House on the suggestion of one of my friends who told me that her boyfriend loves their chicken tortilla soup, and that I should try it, since I’m always on the lookout for a good CTS, just like I’m always on the lookout for a good Caesar salad dressing, so I went there. Well they offer a soup and CS combo and either because I’m magnanimous, or because I’m completely stupid, I opted for it. I’m always willing to try CTS and CSD at places I haven’t before, in the hopes that I’ll finally find a good one, even though it can be a pointless endeavor: “Hey dumbass, save the disgusting, bottled dressing for some other dumbass because it’s not CSD since CSD, by nature, is NOT WHITE AND DOESN’T COME IN A BOTTLE, GET IT? AND PUT SOME GODDAMNED CHICKEN IN MY CHICKEN TORTILLA SOUP WHILE YOU’RE AT IT!”
Gosh, I feel so much better! Where was I? Oh yes, so I got their combo soup and Caesar salad and I tasted the soup first, and it was disgusting; thick and gloopy with a piece of giant Frankenstein chicken floating in it and some other stuff, so I wasn’t having any great expectations of my lunch improving. But then I tasted the salad and… my God, the dressing was delicious! This was no white, fake stuff at all! This dressing was vinegary and lemony, and garlicky, and anchovy-ey, with just the right amount of balance between the flavors, and I thought “It tastes almost as good as mine!”
And that’s when the green monster reared it’s ugly head.
I started to think of ways I could get the recipe to see if they stole mine, which, if I had been in a right state of mind, would realize that would be impossible since it isn’t written down, but rather, stored inside my brilliant head, and no one else has it, but jealousy is irrational, see? Then I started thinking of ways to keep people away so they wouldn’t find out that I wasn’t the only one capable of making a spectacular CSD, and because I’m brilliant, I thought of many, many ways to do it, none of which I can discuss here, which I’m sure you understand!
Then the super nice manager-lady asked me how everything was, so I asked her about the goddamned dressing, and she told me that they make it homemade at each location, not at a commissary, so they have complete quality control, and I just blurted out a guffaw, then I started crying and asked her how they could do such a thing to me? She gave me a weird look and I quickly asked her for a job application but she told me they weren’t hiring and abruptly walked away.
I wonder if she does know about my dressing after all?!
The Yard House