I have always organized the food on my plate into a scale from worst to best. It is a difficult task when a dish is an amalgamation of many seasonings and miscellaneous chopped up ingredients, mixed with other dishes that are equally complicated, but I do it every time. I always end up eating everything on my plate, but I like forming expectations of what will go into my mouth, especially when I prefer to satisfy my inner spontaneity by more stimulating means. For me, eating is not an adventure but rather a carefully planned process that I always enjoy because I save the best for last. In regards to the bizarre aesthetics of food placement, the corner of the plate is the spotlight and I must love whatever I put there.
It distresses me when the only item on my to-eat list is an apple. The structure of an apple prevents me from carrying out my usual routine because even the best apples have bitter cores. I could slice the apple, thereby equally distributing the bitterness, but why lessen the intensity of the best when the juicy sweetness can be enjoyed on its own? I could also make slices around the apple starting from the peel to the core, but once in pieces, the juicy parts are indistinguishable from the parts nearer to the core.
The only magical ability I would want is the ability to sweeten an apple’s core. Indeed, that would make me a magical being. When the most experienced farmers, armed with genetic engineering, try to produce the sweetest variation of an apple, they can only alter the tartness of the peel or the sweetness of the apple’s flesh, but never the core. Indeed, my power would completely transform the fundamentals of an apple because the core is the beginning of an apple’s creation. If I had this power, the colour, texture and size of the apple would not matter because I would know for certain that the core would be good. Insides matter. This certainty would be my little piece of control in this volatile, constantly shifting environment and my rock I would hold onto in order for me to appreciate serendipity as it drifts, bubbles and crashes around me in waves.
Day 1 of the Daily Post