To appreciate the whole, know the pieces.
I am certain that I’m not the first one to say something like that. While I would like to attribute, the original is lost to me.
When I eat out, especially when I’m with friends, I pick at my food. Not because I look for hidden broccoli but I’d like to see how the individual parts stand by themselves. Of course, I’m not going to take apart the lasagna just to do it because all the ingredients have spent a good time in the oven and have influenced each other’s flavor. Although I could taste how juicy the beef is, it will also be cheesy. I don’t have the materials nor the time to break down the components and separate them. That is just too tedious.
My style is simpler. One time, Jake and I had an early dinner. The restaurant offered unlimited coffee. So a porcelain coffee set was placed on our table that contained coffee, milk, and sugar in their containers. I was half finished with my milkshake. I eyed his coffee.
For the record, I rarely drink coffee, whatever the make is. But I still took a sip, just to know what it tasted like. That was both with and without the milk. I knew it.
Next I eyed the milk. I had a spoonful. I had to have another. And yet another. And another. Unsurprisingly, I finished the milk faster than Jake did his coffee. Of course, he didn’t want coffee without milk so when he called for the waitress, he asked for more milk, half of which was going to me. It took only a little prodding for him to try it and be convinced that the milk was worth the rave than the coffee.
Waitress found us funny, bouncing off the walls because of milk. She said it was fresh goat’s milk from up north, the same source for the coffee.
Thankfully, she didn’t say anything about me drinking—and finishing—the milk.