You are familiar with the Grammar Nazi, the great master of English language, who will find and eliminate every typo in his path with more dedication than a 6 year old rummaging through the kitchen for candy.
You know the real Nazis. The ultimate bad guys. (just a quick introduction people, remember Godwin’s law?).
Internet, you did it again. Let me introduce you to the newest addition : the Food Nazi. You all know one. And you hate him. And you are right.
The Food Nazi has travelled. The famous Pad Thai that your family loves so much is “ok, but soooooo no like in Thailand, and oh my god are you eating with chopsticks, you know they don’t use chopsticks in Thailand right, REAL Thai food is…”.
Like sitting near a Sheldon Cooper backpacker.
So Shelly: please don’t base your entire judgment on the two-weeks vacations you spent trying the “truly-authentic-with-no-English-menu-I’m-not-a-tourist” restaurants. And if the food is good, who cares if it tastes different?
The Food Nazi has standards. Or let’s say, small obsessions. It might be organic food, it might be vegan food, it might be salted butter or die (this joke’s only funny in France I fear #breizh4ever).
And when two of them meet, boy, brace yourself. I once witnessed a fight between a Cook With Oil Only and a Cook with Butter Only: haven’t heard so much yelling since my friends and I played “What house do you see me into at Hogwarts”. Seriously, do not try it, for the sake of your family. But I’m digress.
It is perfectly fine to have strong beliefs about food, the Most Sacred Thing in the Universe. But please, don’t impose your views on me, and let me eat my Double-Wooper-with-extra-cheese-and-yes-I-know-how-they-make-them, in peace.
The Food Nazi knows the Truth. Ah, the Holy Graal, the One Recipe to rule them all. Because for the Food Nazi, there is only ONE way to make a dish right : his own (aka his mum’s in most cases). And if you commit the deadly mistake of serving him his OWN food (incorrectly prepared, obviously), it begins. Subtle, but cruel. “Your “carbonara” was fine. Well, it was not REAL carbonara, because you used cream and you cut your spaghetti. But it was fine”.
Honey, I’m sure you think your mama’s way is the best, the same way of you think your kids are the cutest. But let’s face it, they probably aren’t. And you know what they say : there are as many ways to make a dish are they are mums in the world.
I’m sure you felt the small Food Nazi inside you tickle a little (it was the spaghetti cutting, wasn’t it?). We all have one, sleeping like a volcano. Like when my mum use basmati rice to make risotto (aaaaaand an Italian person just died). And maybe it is for the best. Maybe it is a healthy reminder that will keep us from mixing coke with wine (seriously America, WHY?).
But soon, you’ll end up eating your perfect-in-every-way-meal alone. And food, like sex, is better with company.