Rubber-Necking

In my family, food is and has always the center of the universe. Ask any member of my immediate family about their most recent trip, and before you hear about any local sites you'll get a complete run-down of restaurants visited, a complete description and critique of each meal ordered, and a report on service and ambience. Oh. And we went the beach. It was nice.

When my dad was going through a bit of a mid-life crisis and my mom chided him about his weight, his response was, "Leave me alone. Eating is my only pleasure left in life." He got over the "only" bit eventually, but eating being one of his chief pleasures never stopped.

Most of my good friends know I'd rather have a savory than a sweet for dessert. However, on occasion, when the pastry chef is particulary well known for his or her decadent goodies, I will indulge. While visiting Santa Fe, New Mexico, a friend and I treated ourselves to dessert and coffee at the Anasazi Restaurant at the Inn of the Anasazi (at the time rated a 4-star restaurant). My friend had a lovely apple tart with caramel and white chocolate sauces, while I indulged in a huge pot of cappucino creme brulee. So huge, in fact, that I could not finish it. It was a sinfully, silkily sexy whisper on my palate. The taste buds were tempted, but the tummy was done. We had no mini-fridge in our hotel room, so there was no way to take a doggie bag. I practically wept. I threatened to roll around in my plate and wear the rest of it home, rather than leave any behind.

Where is all this leading to?

Well, it seems this passion for foods -- particularly decadent foods -- runs in the family:





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