Emotional Hunger

Lately, I have been feeling emotionally hungry. It's not a physical hunger. I have no pain in my stomach, and I am not faint as I walk around the city. No, it's in my head. Lately I have been trying to read up on the contemporary food world. When I return home, I plan to somehow break into the business! But to do this, I must be knowledgeable. Looking at all of the pictures, reading all of the restaurant reviews, menus and blogs is taking its toll. As I scroll through page after page on the World Wide Web, my mouth waters as I swoon over Michellin-starred menus.

It's not that the food in Buenos Aires isn’t good, it's just that I’m too broke to eat at any of the good restaurants. They don’t offer the same variety on all price levels that they do in New York. Occasionally I go to some cheap joints I know for Peruvian or Chinese food, but it's not the lovely, fanciful, creative food that makes my pulse race.

Argentine food tends to be a little on the boring side. Their idea of spicy is a bit of black pepper. I have to dump a whole load of their hot sauce onto a meal to even get the slightest hint of fire in my mouth. It is also difficult to find fresh herbs, spices, peppers and good condiments, unless you are willing to spend a fortune. At home, I can go out and get everything in under two or three stop–-meat, fish, herbs, you name it. Here it would take many more, and I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Honestly, it wouldn’t take the finest restaurant in New York City to satisfy my cravings. It would take the good, down-home Connecticut food I am used to. The Delis that I grew up taking for granted, some Garden Catering or some Pizza Post. How it would please me to hit up Meli-Melo for a midweek lunch or a light dinner with a choice bottle of wine. The soup, the crepes, the salads. Or then again, maybe some wings from Mackenzie’s or some baked ziti from Athens. I would eat it all. That would certainly satisfy my emotional hunger.