Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published October 5, 2007 Seeking Passion Late In Life Not long ago I had breakfast in a small, insignificant restaurant someone recommended to me. I consider it my job to try everything sooner or later, even against what my instincts tell me. The food was not horrible. The pancakes were a little underdone, and they were served with margarine and a greasy bottle of Log Cabin syrup. The bacon was fried to order--which makes it better than what you get in most breakfast joints, which routinely fry tons of bacon in advance (sometimes days in advance, believe it or not). The coffee was ordinary. The people running the place were pleasant. The few customers in the place seemed to be regulars. The menu was large and the prices were low. On the deficit side, the premises came across to me as dirty. Particularly offputting were the chairs, splotched with all manner of gradoo. This is not a restaurant I need in my life. I know a couple dozen other places, some in the general vicinity of this one, where the food is much better. Where the dining rooms are clean. And where the prices are essentially the same. I need only so many breakfast places to get by. I need only a few more to satisfy the needs of my readers, who range wider geographically than I ordinarily do. And after I make up that list, this dirty little place with margarine melting on the gooey pancakes is not on it. I'm also listening to the audiobook version of an interesting collection of writing about food. (Choice Cuts, by Mark Kurlansky.) As I listen to it, an idea that's been on my mind for a long time has grown in force. Namely, I think I--and you--eat too much ordinary food. And we go to too many ordinary restaurants. I am of an age (56) at which I am experiencing a lessening of my appetite. My body needs much less food than it did years ago. You're probably in the same boat. (If not, you shortly will be.) It seems obvious to me that the best way to handle this adjustment is to cut out anything that doesn't bring real pleasure. So I find myself passing by meals--and restaurants--that are likely to be ordinary. That's one of the reasons I avoid chain restaurants. And hamburgers, unless I make them myself. Or other meals that are eaten only because they're there, or only because it's time to eat. This doesn't mean eating only expensive gourmet food. I can't imagine a day when I will no longer enjoy a well-made poor boy or a great plate of red beans or perfect scrambled eggs. But why on earth should we eat ordinary food anymore? Just okay isn't good enough to get excited about. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com