I'm reading Medium Raw by Anthony Bourdain and a thought came to me. Why am I not doing this?
I put the book down, went made a cup of tea and played an entire conversation over in my mind while I did. Telling myself on one hand that I've managed to write on so many other levels, then pointing out to myself on the other hand that I do not have a background in the culinary arts. I don't even eat meat. How could I possibly be a real food writer? And where would I possibly get money to travel around eating my way through cities?
This was about three days ago I had this internal conversation. I'm in the last chapter of the book right now, and something else sprang into my mind.
I went out for brunch with my sister and brother in law couple of days ago, and I got told to shut up about two hours afterwards. I was still talking about the food.
It wasn't even a fancy place, just the local family restaurant down the street. A building that has seen more then it's fair share of owners, had it's name changed close to twelve times in under 25 years, has it's staff for only three months at a time during summers or the school year.
The thought I had about the place was I did not even think to write about it. Not when I was there. Not for the few hours afterwards that my sister got tired of listening to me about the sea salt on the fries. Did not even consider the idea about writing about it until now. Three days later.
Just something to think about.