I had to stop and think about it for a moment. Back in high school, I was notorious among my friends for always dragging them to the latest hole-in-the-wall I’d found or force-feeding them sashimi back at a time when sushi wasn’t nearly as accessible or omnipresent as it is today. But finally it struck me: that moment, the one that my parents still tease me about to this day.
In elementary school, my class was planning a field trip to Galveston to visit the Elissa (typical Houston schoolkid journey, of course). And while the prospect of climbing all over the old ship was charming and all, my single-minded focus at 10 years old was where we were eating while we were down there. Surely we couldn’t drive all that way and not dine at some of the island’s best restaurants!
The first stop had to be Gaido’s. I planned it all out in my head as my parents and I drove in our Suburban to the grocery store one day. Gaido’s for bisque and then perhaps Shrimp ‘n’ Stuff for fried oysters and then definitely a stop at the Peanut Butter Warehouse for fudge afterward.
Apparently, I’d gotten a very dreamy look on my face while contemplating this Galveston food crawl and had gone uncharacteristically quiet.
“What are you thinking about back there?” my mother asked.
“Our field trip to Galveston,” I answered.
“Oh yeah? Are you excited?” she asked her little fifth grader, surely imagining that I was looking forward to making sandcastles or playing with seagulls on the beach.
“I wonder if we’ll go to Gaido’s…” I mused back.
My parents simultaneously burst into laughter.
“Why would you go to Gaido’s?” my mother asked after she composed herself.
“Why not?!” I was indignant. Why was this so funny?
The laughter and the befuddlement was a reaction I’d get used to over years and years of suggesting dining destinations or asking to go to restaurants that were completely bizarre in whatever the given set of circumstances were at the time. (“You want to go eat at a place on the Ship Channel for prom?!” “You want to get Ethiopian food? I was hoping we could just go to IHOP.”)
Of course, no one was going to take a bus full of 10-year-olds to Gaido’s, but that hadn’t stopped me from dreaming it was possible. I imagined all of us sitting in that plush dining room overlooking the sea, daintily enjoying cups of lobster bisque and my teachers thanking me for the marvelous suggestion as my classmates patted their mouths with cloth napkins and remarked on how much they’d enjoyed the food. I was always a dreamer.
That, I told my friend, was the point at which I realized that my interest in food was perhaps more excessive than the average person.
But what about you? What was your moment of realization?