Tag Archives: food

The Olives of Wrath

Sitting in Café des Irlandais last weekend, Johanne and I sat over a shared starter of foie gras served with chocolate shavings and croissant. The dish was cohesive: the croissant complimented foie gras; the chocolate drew out the paté’s flavours. A number of olives were scattered on the plate. I avoided these. I eat olives, but they aren’t my favourite food.

I decided to brave an olive. I took a small piece of the croissant, patted the foie gras onto it and pricked the olive with a fork. The moistness of the olive added to the taste experience. The olives tasted sweet.

“These olives are delicious, Johanne. Try one!”

Johanne grimaced slightly. “I’m not a big fan of olives. I find them bitter.”

“These taste sweet, as if they were soaked in something.”

“I’ll try one.” Johanne leaned forward and pierced an olive with a fork. She bit into it and nodded her head. “Mmmm, you’re right, they are nice.”

“See, I told you.”

“I can see what you mean about them being sweet. But that’s not really a surprise since they are not olives. They’re grapes.”


Brace Yourself

I am a twenty seven year old, braces wearing adult. This is hard to embrace sometimes. My mates and I have shared many a giggle in my attempt to cope with my mouth-paraphernalia through humour. Over the past six weeks of having braces, I have encountered numerous highs and lows along the route that will lead to a perfect smile. Here is a list of some peaks and troughs:

Dribble; for the first week or two, I had problems with excess saliva. I dribbled on myself numerous times. I was like a stroke victim. Most mornings I continue to wake up in a pillow full of drool. I worry about staining the pillow cases of my friends when I stay over. Dribbling gets particularly bad when I am hungry. My mouth gushes with spittle in the anticipation of nourishment.

Mouth Ulcers; this is by far the worst aspect of having braces. For the first few weeks, ulcers formed on my cheeks and tongue. I thought they’d never subside. Talking and eating was so difficult it impacted my mood. Ulcers are no longer a problem since my discovery of miracle product Aloclair. The creator of this product should be sainted in my opinion. I have set up a shrine to this person.

Speech; the dual effects of ulcers and excess saliva had a severe impact on my speech. Notable moments include asking for “two thoffees” in a café. During a conversation, I once referred to London and New York as “big sissies”. Luckily, over a month or so, I have adapted. I now over-pronounce words like a dodgy Shakespearian actor. I continue to have bad days when hung-over or tired.

Food; eating was so difficult that I gave it up for a few weeks. Food stuff just kept getting tangled. I shed a significant amount of weight. I’m unable to bite into things since my front teeth are sensitive. Foods like chips, rice and lettuce are avoided. I’ve brushed my teeth in a posh restaurant bathroom. Once, during a run, a small piece of ginger dislodged somewhere from my brace. It made for an unpleasant surprise.

Men; I reckon I am more conscious of my braces than other people are. On the rare occasion I am chatted up, I fear the guy might notice my train tracks and do a U-turn. A guy like this is obviously not worth knowing. I should think of it as a screening process. Should I meet Mr Nice, I have a mental image of him leaning in for a kiss and getting his tongue getting caught in my metallic finish. This is clearly ridiculous, but it has crossed my mind.

Overall, I know braces are not forever. I am gradually getting used to them. Part of my treatment requires me wearing a jaw expander for five months. I’ve posted a picture of this below. When the orthodontist presented this to me, I stared in disbelief, gawping at its considerable size. Within minutes he lodged it into my gob. I reckon this piece of equipment could convert a guy to Judaism within a few seconds.




Awkwardness is …

stuffing a torsades into your gob, due to extreme hunger, on the way back from the shop, and  sharing a small lift with your neighbour, who also lives on the eighth floor. I bet my pastry, chocolate greeting made her go weak at the knees.

Just Dessert

This evening, I decided to take a trip into town to absorb the atmosphere that was Arthur’s Day. Before leaving my office, I shed my brown shoes and replaced them with white Adidas runners. My suit jacket was swapped for a baggy, brown Abercrombie hoodie. I’ve not shaved in two or three days. I looked rough. I had an hour to spare before meeting Joanne. I dropped into Brown Thomas.

I strolled around the men’s section of the store. A few items caught my attention. I bee lined to the shoe section. There I found a brown pair of Canali boots for a steal at €365. Unfortunately, my appearance drew no dirty looks from snobby Brown Thomas staff. I left the store disappointed. I was doubly saddened to learn no security guards followed me to the door. Maybe next time.

I met Joanne at Bewley’s for our usual salad in Café Bar Deli. She appeared from nowhere among the busy Grafton Street crowd. She looked as funky as ever in fitted jeans, blazer and a scarf. We entered the restaurant. While queuing to be seated, a vision in the form of a waiter appeared. Joanne’s eyes sparkled. The waiter noticed her gawp. He said hello. Joanne’s mouth hung open.

“Oh my God is he not the hottest thing ever?”

“I definitely would,” I agreed.

“Will you get his number for me?” she asked with contagious excitement.

“You should ask him yourself. I am not asking any more men for their number.”

“Please,” she begged.

“We’ll see,” I trailed off as a waitress approached to seat us.

On the walk to our table Jo and I noticed an unusually high number of good looking waiters. The restaurant was exceptionally busy. Not one of the handsome waiters had a second to spare. One whizzed by every second. We sat down, placed our order and sat tight for our food, which took nearly forty minutes. The selection of choice meats on offer did nothing to whet our appetites (for food). We were starved.

A handsome Puerto Rican waiter walked by the table. He was dark with black hair and large brown eyes. His black T-shirt clung to his muscular physique, complimenting his large biceps.

“I don’t like him,” Joanne said as she watched him from the corner of her eye.

“Why not?” I asked. My attention span waned due to hunger.

“He won’t acknowledge me. Do you think he is?”

“One of my friends? It’s hard to tell, Jo.”

“I bet all the staff in here are sleeping with one another. They’re all at it.”

“Listen to yourself,” I said. “You so need a shag.”


The food eventually arrived. We cleared our plates in no time. I wanted something sweet and was pleased Jo agreed to share a brownie and ice-cream.  I thought she was exceptionally excited about dessert until I realised why her face was alight with joy. Her favourite waiter was on the approach. She caught his attention.

“Hi! Can we order dessert, please?” She said this with her best smile.

The handsome waiter was caught off guard.

“Yes, no problem. Let me clear your plates and get you menus.”

He was Spanish and even more attractive up close. Joanne and I watched him wide-eyed.

The waiter cleared the table and returned with two menus. He handed them to us.

“You can take it from here,” Joanne said as she closed the menu.

“Can I please get a brownie … Oh and can my friend give you her number?”

The waiter paused for a moment as if asking himself had I in fact said what I did. Joanne exploded into laughter. She assessed his face for a reaction. He looked at her and laughed nervously. He grabbed the menus and retreated rapidly.

“Are we going to get our brownie?” I asked. “Did we scare him away?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you just did that,” said Jo in disbelief.

“You asked me to ask him for his number.”

“Yeah, but I thought you would be a little more subtle than that. I am so embarrassed. I can never come in here again. Look! He’s telling one of the other waiters about me.”

“You told me to ‘take it from here’.”

“I meant for you to order dessert!”

“Oh. Sorry about that. Did I really embarrass you that much?” I asked with genuine concern.

“No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it.” She laughed as she spoke.

Joanne and I laughed long and hard. The poor waiter came nowhere near our section of the restaurant. Joanne could see him in the distance as he kept us at bay. A waitress came to our table to see if we wanted dessert. I felt like suggesting she check on the welfare of her colleague. Instead, I requested she ensure a brownie was ordered for our table.

We waited for dessert in silence. Every time we looked at one another we just erupted into laughter. At one stage Joanne wiped a tear from her eye. She was paranoid that her favourite waiter was telling his colleagues of my request for his number.

She leaned in towards me. “You do realise he probably thinks we want a threesome.”

I laughed at this.

On the way out of the restaurant Joanne left my side while I paid.

“Where did you get to?” I asked on her return.

“I went to the waiter to apologise for your behaviour. I told him you like to embarrass me.”

“Did you get his number?”

“No, I didn’t.”

I shook my head.

You Don’t Win Friends with Salad

As you may have guessed from reading one or two entries of mine, my weight is a big concern of mine. The last few years of my life have seen my shape morph from underweight, to overweight, to just right and now it is at a relatively healthy position. Do you think I am happy?

No! I must shed fat.

This week I have been eating salads from the office-canteen. I am sticking to green leaves to avoid wedges, chips and all other forms of stodge. In five days, I’ve lost a little weight.  I even feel healthier. Imagine such a change in such a short period of time. Of course, one would think I’d refrain from junk what my recent weight loss due to small changes.

Wrong again!

My office is like a confectionery shop at the moment. Someone brought in sweets because we are going through a busy patsy in work. Another colleague brought in a large box of chocolates; she has to go to weight watchers next week and fears the implications of leaving them at home. Seeing as my colleagues knowingly calorie dump in work, one would assume I’d refrain from gobbling their unwanted sweets.

Of course not!

I am the human equivalent of a calorie charity bin. I feel obliged to hoover up unwanted food stuffs. Once I see foil or wrappers, I tear open packets and examine the contents. I almost feel I might cause offence by not eating them. What is my problem? Why can’t I take one and leave it at that? I really need to get to the bottom of this.

So yeah, it’s salad again for lunch.

Lots of Treats to Eat

I don’t know if I have mentioned it, but I have exams at the end of April. I’ve been studying most evenings in work. These days, my life is barren of entertainment and excitement; it consists of study, Boyfriend and blogging.

I took a last minute day off this morning to hit the books. I took a trip to the shop to stock up on study treats. One always should be a little liberal and treat one’s self when studying. I bought a box of Coco Pops, Rollo yoghurts and a (stale) Danish.

I scoffed the lot in less than ten minutes.