| Writing food is not easy | Send to a friend |
| Saturday, 26 February 2011 22:11 |
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For anyone who’s never seen the inside of a classroom like me, the poor son of this rat and roach-infested Uswaz, mere display of knowledge annoys the hell out me – it creates an epileptic irritation that makes me froth in the mouth – with rage of course. My learned Uswaz drinking chum Winchinslauss Rwegoshora (PhD, MA, BA) calls it Defense Mechanism (whatever that is). I get offended because there are easier ways naming things other than mouthing pronunciation that remind me of someone choking on a piece of ‘kitimoto’ at Mzee Shirima’s beer drinking joint after imbibing more than his woozy head can take. I will tell you why; all knowledge (I mean all) hinges on vanity. In order to sound ‘learned’, heavy use of unnecessary language becomes the order of the day. Why the hell would a chemistry teacher spend a whole lesson teaching students some hard-to-pronounce lousy mouthfuls like tetrahydrochrorodiflouromethane (my tongue already hurts) when they cannot even write their own names? Anyway, as I have always hinted to you that besides hammering at the keyboard to produce the third-rate column you are now reading, I scrape up some money juggling behind my boss’s back. Last week, after reading a write-up I had presented somewhere, someone thought that it was a good idea to hand me a task as a Gastrodenome - I was supposed to sample morsels in a certain Bongo five-star hotel and write something about it even though I had never written on food before. The catch here was good because my wallet that had taken an abode in its usual financial ICU was promised of a reprieve. Who would refuse a deal whereby all one needed was to do is to stuff his stomach with real food and just write about it. However, it later dawned that being a gastrodenome is more than stuffing one’s self with food and writing a secondary school composition about the experience. It would have been easier to write Arabic than writing about food. A fellow like born on the shores of Lake Victoria whose diet from day one comprised bananas, bananas, bananas and banana beer called ‘rubisi’. My diet of since I became an avowed Uswahilinite now comprises ‘cow socks’ alias makongoro (hooves), chicken intestines, legs and other offal that would make dog vomit. From such a background, how would you write the tastes, aromas, ambiance and romantic aspects of funky menus like I sampled at that hotel? How would you, for example write the taste of Salad of Quail, Rocket and Artichokes served with shavings of parmesan and drizzled with aged balsamic and Cretan extra virgin olive oil? Or how the hell would one write Pecorino, Gorgonzola and Gryuere custard served with roasted tomato and rosemary veloure and grisini. In the meantime, I do not know what to do for I stuffed myself with good food, drank the best wines, whiskeys, rums and sherries, got drank and just cannot write! Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites           |
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