Four years ago a meal for me was cold, limp salad with vinegar and I’d take a bowl of cereal over dinner. Food didn’t bother me. Most of it I didn’t like and what I did, I ate to stop hunger, not for pleasure.
Enter Mr Hospitality(apologies for the unimaginative name derived from his degree subject). My first sighting of a real unadulterated foodie. His knowledge was incredible, his palate refined. When we first met he was twirling round the kitchen with the elegance of a ballerina and the knife skills of a Samuri.
After finding common ground in a bottle or two of wine and soon Mr H. was a permanent part of my life.
What followed was an education. Mr H. coaxed me into eating. First some red meat here, some seafood there.
Like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, (minus the elegance, poise and ravishing good looks) after mastering the basics I was allowed out. We went to some of London’s best restaurants where my palate was delighted with tasting menus. It was not long before Mr H. had his ‘by George, she’s got it!’ Rex Harrison moment .
In less than a year I was a fully converted foodie, and a stone heavier to prove it.
Now food is a huge part of my life, it’s what I plan my weekends, holidays, everything around. Pub trips with friends have been replaced by boozy dinner parties and long lunches. And under the guidance of Mr. H, I am spreading my wings in the kitchen.
Here my tale from fusspot to foodie continues as I make up for 22 years of lost food…