The Hell With This
I’m not that old. In fact, I’m a strapping young lad, aside from my bad hip and unexplained memory lapses. But every now and again, I still feel the shadow of age creeping around the corners of my days, revealing itself just enough to remind me that I’m not actually immortal as I once believed. Last night, that shadow revealed another truth of growing older:
I have had enough of trying to eat Chinese food with chopsticks.
There was once a point where I was really, really intent on learning the proper application of chopsticks. Since my hometown was small and rather dinky on the culinary side, I didn’t actually have real Chinese food until halfway through college — I’m pretty sure that’s why the art of chopsticking still had that mysterious allure, that hint of The Other. I was also informed that they were useful in controlling insect populations, which happens to be very important in buildings that house more than seven male college students.
Ever since I moved to New York, Chinese food has more often than not been a staple of my diet, and I’ve diligently soldiered forward with my chopstick usage, never quite mastering the art of getting food from the foil tray to my mouth. Probably better than a 50/50 chance, but I’ve also scored at least a 75% success with eating like Ralphie’s brother in A Christmas Story, so I don’t know if it counts. After treating myself to some sesame chicken and pork-fried rice last night, something snapped in my head.
As I fumbled with the sticks, trying to find the oh-so-delicate balance between “rice cohesiveness” versus “chopstick gap,” I made a decision:
Fuck this shit.
I am too old and too tired and too busy for this shit. I do not have the time to eat my food with the least efficient tools possible. From now on, I’m going to artlessly shovel food into my gluttonous mouth with a fork like the rest of America.
Or maybe a spork, because that’ll save even more time.
Try picking the bits of cabbage out of your Korean truck food with chopsticks. I think that’s why I have carpal tunnel. Damn, I hate cabbage.
Also, we did have a Chinese place downtown that was decent and closed senior year-ish. Surely you of all people would remember, if only for personal reasons.
While I’ve never been able to catch a fly, I have at least mastered the art of the spicy noodle.
I never bothered with the chopsticks. Italians have no patience for eating utensils that do not maximize food delivery. Give me a spoon big enough to barely get in my mouth. Now we’re talking.
I remember that place, but I don’t think I even knew about it until I started dating her. And then it disappeared shortly thereafter, so I never got a chance to dine.
Yeah, chopsticks have kinda gone the way of the dodo for me, too. They’re a relic of a simpler (and more pretentious) time for me now.
Maybe these will help
If I can’t use them correctly now, I don’t see how attaching a plastic scrotum to them would help.
Chopsptics, I can pick up anything with it….what is this fuss all about? I do think fork does not go well with Sushi though…so for that one, you are stuck…..