I need to get out more

One of my new bosses was talking with me about food and wine the other day. Although he and his wife like to eat out a lot, he often cooks at home and said he once took about three hours just to prepare the salad for a meal. He mentioned the name of what he was preparing for the main course, and it sounded incredibly cultured and sophisticated to me. So much so that I had no idea what he was talking about. I nodded my head and pretended to understand, as I so often do. I hope it doesn't get out that I do that. I wouldn't want my wife to know. Or my boss.

I wish I knew more about cheese. Yes, cheese. I would like to take a course just on cheese alone. Is such a thing out there in the world? I hate to be unpatriotic, but I don't care for American cheese all that much. I like cheddar. I like Swiss. I may even like the various cheeses I see stacked at the counter at the grocery store, but how can I know for sure? Some of them are really expensive, and I would hate to buy some and take it home only to find out that it's horrible. Buying some of them would entail risk. That frightens me. If I could take an Introduction to Cheese 101 course, I could perhaps get over my fear. Maybe I should check with SMU.

Maybe I should check with a psychiatrist.

I wish I knew more about wine. I would love to take a course about it. Not that I'm a big wine drinker, but honestly, I am so pathetic that my favorite wine in the entire world is Reunite. I love it. It tastes great to me, and if all of the other wines in the world other than Reunite were to suddenly die on the vine, I would be totally OK with that. I have tried various other wines, and I can't stand them. Other people love them. So what's wrong with me? Some wines taste so bad to me, I want to spit them out. My whole body shivers with revulsion. It is because I lack the culture and sophistication that practiced wine drinkers enjoy, or is it possible that they hate it just as much as I do, and only pretend to enjoy it?

It's probably me.

I wish I knew more about beer. When it comes to beer, I pretty much stick with Miller Lite. What does that say about me? I hate to ask. I've tried others, and a lot of them have this strange aftertaste that sticks with you long after the fact. To my uneducated pallet, Miller Lite is great. But I can't help but ask myself, what else am I missing? A guy I used to know would make his own beer. He would slave over it, brew it until it was perfect for his pallet, and then share its golden deliciousness with his friends. He gave me some once. He was really proud of this particular batch and asked me to take some home, try it out, and let him know how I liked it. I took it home, took one sip, and ran as fast as I could to the sink. How can I describe how horrible it was? It was as close to drinking liquid weed killer as I ever hope to get. When I saw him the next day, he asked me what I thought. I told him it was the best beer I ever had.

And finally, I wish I knew more about food. My wife has tried her best over the years to educate me. When we were dating, we went to eat at her Grandmother's apartment. She was an amazing, brilliant lady who lived into her 90s. I was so lucky to know her. She made dinner for us one night, and it was just fantastic. And then came dessert. It was bread pudding. I had never had bread pudding before. She served it to me, and I looked down and saw this lump of stuff that looked for all the world like cat vomit. While she went to the kitchen to fetch something, I whispered to Jane, "I didn't think I can eat this." Now my wife is about the sweetest, most even-tempered woman in the world. I can count on one hand the number of times she has snapped at me over the years. This was the first time. "Eat it!" she hissed, in a tone that meant business. So I took a big bite and immediately washed it down with some water. I gagged, and then did it again until the stuff was gone. Her grandmother came out of the kitchen and saw that I had eaten all of the bread pudding. "Oh! You've already finished your bread pudding! Would you like some more?" she asked sweetly. I politely thanked her, but said I was full. She gave me some to take home. My parents really liked it.

My wife is a really great cook and I appreciate everything she makes us for dinner. She works so hard and cooks up some amazing dishes for us. But if dinner is not sourced from a bag or a box, it's often outside of my fast food frame of reference. I want to appreciate good cuisine more, but where do I start?

Tonight, I had an idea and acted on it.

Instead of going to Taco Bell like we usually do, we went to Taco Bueno.