In Melbourne, eating out is a no-brainer.
Here, food is not just for sustaining your energy or feeding your hunger.
It’s a place where food is Art. Fashion, even. (Just ask the hipsters – they wear the café scene.)
And when you can get delicious diversity at a reasonable price, with food better than in its home country – OK, may be not Mexican food; LA can have that one – then why eat at home?
Not even the ‘80s-style dinner parties have survived. The way to catch up, to see people nowadays (and be seen) is usually over a coffee or a meal – at an ‘in’ restaurant.
It’s just so easy, so trendy to eat out.
Even I’ve succumbed to the habit. Coffees (magics, if you please). Brunches. Friday night dinners. The midweek dinner to catch up with a girlfriend.
I absolutely love it.
Well, I did until recently.
I’ve become too greedy for fashionable food, eating out too often. And this has had its consequences.
And I don’t necessarily mean financially. Well, not in the ‘smashed avocado–can’t afford a home deposit’ kind of way.
For me, when I eat out too often, I notice I become a little numb to the experience. That it no longer holds wonder and joy as it once did. That it becomes blasé. Nonchalant.
I don’t wish to feel this way. I wish to light up when I see a beautifully plated dish. To have all of my five senses stimulated. To not take it for granted.
The only way to do this is to choose to decrease my supply.
I pondered the idea of giving up eating out for a month. That thought only lasted for a split second. For the fear of becoming a hermit and not having a break from cooking.
So, here I am, aiming to find balance between making my own fodder and eating out.
But, if you say the magic word, I’ll be there.