It’s early in our relationship, and I need to make a confession: I am a liar.
It’s true, as housewife to my beloved Kit, I do all the cooking. Ever so often I post pics and status updates about what’s for dinner, just like many of my Facebook friends do. For instance, I’ll post a picture of the roast beef and Yorkshire puddings I made and link to where I found the recipe. Or perhaps I post a pic of the delicious devilled eggs I prepared for my friends’ going away party (recipe from Femme Fraiche).
But there are some people, (you know who they are), who post pictures of every single thing that they eat. They feel the need to share every single bite they take, whether it’s out at a restaurant or, very rarely, from their kitchen. Are they posting for praise of their ability to go to a restaurant and order something? Do they think that that pile of steaming green puree looks like anything other than baby shit?
All of these people who post food for praise, whether they make it or order it, annoy me. Their status updates practically beg people to compliment their food choices. Sick. The only reason to post food pictures is to make other people jealous. Which is why I do it.
Then the lying began. Annoyed at others for posting photos of food they did not cook themselves, I began by sprinkling my occasional cooking Facebook status updates with meals I did not prepare. Sure, I’d post that I made migas with tomato-chipotle coulis, but we really ate a rotisserie chicken that was on sale at the grocery store.
With fake meals tucked between legitimate dinners, it was easy to fool people. It was so easy I started stealing menu items from a local restaurant that’s been in the news lately. I would post my faux exploits of tackling parisienne gnocchi with radishes and sorrel. Mushrooms and sugar snap peas, served with soy and yuzu infused brown butter. Aww, it was nothing to whip up! My Facebook friends did not disappoint and proclaimed their jealousy. That’s when the trouble started.
Searching for something obviously ridiculous, I posted that I made geoduck ceviche. I knew nothing about geoduck other than it looks like a penis, but who cares? It was just a fake post. Let them eat cock! Turns out people did care. Impressed by the geoduck, they posted more comments than for any of my other meals. Everyone wanted to come ’round for dinner.
A couple nights later it hit me: the following afternoon, friends were throwing me and Kit a very large engagement party. I just knew someone would ask me about the geoduck.
Kit fast asleep, I stayed up past my bedtime. Adrenaline-fuelled and slightly manic, I learned all I could about geoduck. I now know how to dig a geoduck, clean a geoduck, and cook a geoduck. I even learned about sustainable harvesting in Washington and Canada’s Underwater Harvesters Association. My cover was secure. I had this.
I went to bed exhausted and was still tired when we arrived at our engagement party. However, I was ready to tackle any geoduck questions.
No one asked a thing.