Having tasted the fruits of banality and inertia, one will never go back to effort and spice.
Not a single peppercorn, sauce, or condiment adorned this homegrown meal, found in the middle of nowhere, on an island, in Peru. Even a grain of salt would be sit like a blemish upon the skin of these humble potatoes. Naïve, but daring, they emerged into a world undressed and ready to face even the harshest critic. The fact that they failed was no surprise.
Note the brick of fried cheese that laid solemnly, bearing little to no oil. It must have been fried in goodwill alone – meshing handsomely with its dull friends, the tubers.
But perhaps the best part of this meal was the rich dessert: Three carefully chopped cucumbers crowned by a modest tomato slice. Who needs affogato or mille-feuille when this sensual treat resounds? If 30 is the new 20, then bland is the new zest.
Hasta luego.











