The Way to My Heart

It has often been said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, although I can’t say that I necessarily agree with the above statement, it may be true to a certain extent for some men. However, I’m not a man and I don’t have the stomach of a man, but I have joked more than once that if a man truly wants to win my affections, then what he needs to do is have a long conversation about food with me. I may just fall for him. Of course, the conversation doesn’t have to result in his making a gourmet meal for me. Far from it! But to discuss anything related to food, my ears will perk up, and I will become very attentive and alert. It can be about restaurants, un/healthy eating, weight gain or loss, favourite foods, preparing foods, cooking shows, etc. It really doesn’t matter, as long as the topic revolves around food.

My family has grown accustomed to my near-photographic memory for remembering what we ate in various restaurants and how I would rate said restaurants. They also know that if they go out anywhere and there is food present, the first question I will ask when they return home is “What did you have to eat?” As a child, because I had sleeping problems, I would often occupy my mind with imagining I was eating certain foods, and sometimes, I’d nearly start drooling just thinking about eating a chocolate bar, a bag of popcorn, or my favourite, toffee. I would sometimes feel terribly disappointed that the only food I would be permitted to eat was some soda crackers. (However, I did savour every bite.)

I’ve always had a tremendous love for this topic; I can’t say exactly why. However, I once read how this woman would read cookbooks like others read novels and I totally related to her. Every so often, I would pull out all of my Mom’s cookbooks, stack them beside me on the couch, and proceed to flip through their pages for a few hours. I rather enjoyed this pastime. I also was taught to cook and bake at a young age. I would’ve made my first batch of cookies at probably age eight. My Mom strongly believed that her children should help her in the kitchen, so we did, my brother and I. We both know how to cook and bake and are totally at home baking bread by hand, whipping up a batch of cookies, barbecuing steak, carving a turkey, or making mashed potatoes.


So what was the point of this blog entry? To talk about food. Maybe. To let men out there know what I would be interested in discussing. Maybe. You will likely never know.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s