My co-workers might disagree based on how my lunch is often composed– cans of soups from un-named gigantic soup conglomorates, bags of chips, mass-market tea… but I am a foodie. I’m just (admittedly) lazy about translating my inherent love of food and cooking into a gourmet meal to take to the office. But all this aside, good food is a passion of mine. I am on the borderline of being obsessed with learning complicated French dishes, reading cook’s memoirs, developing mise-en-place and superior knife skills and most importantly, cooking and eating well. My mailbox is suffering from a massive influx of food porn, otherwise known as gourmet food and kitchen supply catalogs. I browse 20-year-old oak-cask-aged balsamic vinegars and cuts of beef for fun. I practice chiffonading in my leisure time. I write detailed menus, devour cookbooks, catalog recipes from food magazines into a searchable database (I’m not kidding– I’m nearly halfway done with it) and am intent on learning the do’s and don’ts of appropriate wine pairings and white-tie-service place settings. Food geek, and proud of it. But how much is too much? I guess I haven’t gone over the edge yet– I have not yet blown an entire paycheck on a good vintage bottled before I was born, or structured an entire vacation around truffles being in season in the south of France, and I haven’t sold my firstborn to the Devil for a complete set of Wustoff knives and Le Creuset. But I’ve thought about it! In all seriousness though, good food is not a privilege. It’s a basic right, that some of us happen to be a little more zealous about than the others. But anyway, maybe I’ll whip up something decent to take to work tomorrow… but then, will I have to share? C’est la vie, let’s eat and pass the wine!