paradox of becoming wealthy?

 What is the greatest paradox of becoming wealthy?

Wealth is relative. At this point, I 

have a good income, but I 

wouldn’t really consider myself 

wealthy. Still, there is no denying 

that I am much better off 

financially than I was in my 

younger days.

The biggest thing that has 

changed is my relationship to 

food. As a poor person, my 

main concern was maximizing 

my caloric intake while 

minimizing how much money I 

spent. My priority was keeping 

myself adequately nourished. If 

a cut of salmon filet cost $10 

per pound, then I just wouldn’t 

be eating any salmon. I would 

classify it as “rich people food” 

and move on. And when I saw 

restaurants where some plates 

cost $30 or more, often for a 

tiny amount of food, it seemed 

like the height of folly that any-

one could pay for such a thing. 

Where was the rest of the food? 

And didn’t people realize that 

they could get a lot more food 

for a lot less money?

But now, when it comes to food, 

affordability is not something I 

even think about. I’m rich 

enough to afford anything I 

want to eat. You don’t need to 

be very rich for that, but it’s a 

huge change in my circum-

stances. Even as recently as a 

year ago, I had to think about 

the cost of every cut of meat 

that I wanted to buy. Now, the 

only question I need to ask is 

whether I want it.

It turns out that this is a great way 

to gain weight. And after gaining 

about a pound a month for 6 

straight months, I started to 

change the way I thought about 

eating. I had to unlearn my life-

long habits. I started to prize 

taste over quantity. I started learn

-ing to throw food away when I 

had eaten enough. And I started 

to appreciate small plates at fine 

dining restaurants. My priority 

had become not overeating.

And today, I am happy to pay for 

tiny portions. I don’t need the 

extra calories.

 Some people are wondering why 

I throw away food, rather than 

saving it for another time. The 

answer is that I don’t throw away 

all food; it’s just that I used to 

never throw away anything. So, if 

I forgot to refrigerate my rice and 

left it out for more than 24 hours, 

I would just eat it. Now, the risk of 

food poisoning with B. cereus is a 

higher consideration than the 

wasted food.

Another thing I’ll do sometimes is 

try something that comes in a 

pretty package. I just opened this 

10 minutes ago:

It seemed like a good idea at the 

time. But, in truth, it tastes like 

the monstrosity it is. Am I going 

to save it? No. I detest the taste. 

I don’t need the calories. And I 

can’t cook with it or do anything 

else. It’s going into the trash.

One of the great things about really good food is that when it’s made right, you don’t need a lot of it to feel satisfied.

This came home to me last night when I decided to follow a recipe I’d know for years: Thomas Keller’s recipe for Maine Lobster Rolls, from his book Ad Hoc.

The recipe involves mixing lobster flesh with mayonnaise, chopped red onion, lime juice, celery and herbs, and putting the resulting salad into hot dog buns that have been browned on the sides in butter.

Over a year ago, my ex-wife gave me a frozen lobster as a quasi-ironic birthday present and it had been sitting in my freezer ever since. Yesterday I decided to eat it, so I thawed it out and rather inexpertly extracted the meat from it.

Here’s the kicker: I decided to be like Thomas Keller and make the mayonnaise, using Keller’s own recipe.

I don’t even really like mayonnaise, but no way was I going to insult Thomas Keller by using Hellman’s. And I hadn’t made my own mayonnaise in years.

Whisk egg yolks with drop after drop of canola oil. Add lemon juice and salt. This took an hour, especially after I messed up and caused it to curdle, forcing me to start all over again, adding the curdled egg and oil soup drop by drop to a new egg yolk.

But I got there in the end. The result was completely unlike Hellman’s or any other shop-bought mayonnaise: yellow, glossy, slightly lemony and luxurious, not a claggy, vinegary glop.

I had enough to adorn two small hot dog rolls, with my entirely homemade lobster salad. It looked, on the plate, like a very modest dinner.

It was freaking delicious. I thought I was going to want to eat something else as well. I didn’t.

It was like all the good meals I’ve had in good restaurants: deceptively satisfying. Having finished the last morsel, I was done.

That’s the secret of those ‘fine dining’ restaurants: they know how to feed you until you’ve had enough without loading your plate with food.

Wow, you make me want to try it!

Hubby and I might be doing a Napa Valley tour next spring. Prolly staying in Yountville. One of Keller’s restos there might be just the right venue to negotiate a polyandry-nup :-P

I’ve got every one of Keller’s recipe books (and have entertained often with his recipes). And have eaten at Per Se in New York. I have no problem spending that amount of time (or money) to experience fantastic cuisine. Absolutely worth it!

I have never eaten in any of his restaurants and never expect to, but I love his books and his general helpful approach. He really, really knows what he’s talking about.