In Heaven Everything is Fine

This is a chicken thigh dressed up as an enchilada hanging with some sweet corn on the cob and leftover red rice and nectarine salsa.

These are my personal favorite everyday type dinners that only make sense to me.  I think someone else could enjoy it, like P.  And he does.  I see it.  He eats it up and says how good it tasted. But sometimes I wonder if my appreciation goes deeper because its all so particular.  I wonder if adding the emotional personal attachment to pleasure is a female thing all around.  Connecting premiums to gratification is like multi tasking, another lady invention.  This should be studied.  For a guy, maybe that would ruin it.

I do ponder these things.  Another reason I never wanted to work in food service.  I'm always terrified to learn someone hates something I find absolutely fabulous.  How could it be? The world is so harsh.  Like cold fresh salsa over hot rice.  The way my mom's enchilada sauce tastes mixed with cold chopped onions and iceberg lettuce sliced thin, some sharp cheddar. The sad feeling I get when I discover a buddy hates mushrooms or cilantro.  Some people hate when one food touches the other.  I say new flavor combinations are sometimes discovered this way. Some folks are into wild things but that never bothered me.  I'd often try them just to see if I could possibly get that same sensation.  Differences start early too and I was there to witness many.  I preferred salt on my rhubarb instead of sugar like the other kids.  Mustard was a must on my hamburger whereas ketchup won out for most.  But it didn't end there with me, I would do the ketchup but you have to swirl in the mustard and then add sour pickles on top to correct the order in the universe.  For me, anyway, that's how I saw it and it pretty much stays the same today.  I want people to have what they like but I can only speak to what I like, so....