Salty's in Seattle

One night this week (I forget which) we went to Salty's to eat. I decided to order the top sirloin, because we've had quite a bit of seafood lately (Ivar's plus my son loves to cook salmon on his George Foreman). I figured if I asked for extra veggies and no potatoes, I'd be ok with the low carb thing. So they bring this nice, thick steak, sitting on a bed of veggies. This was a very high class restaurant. You know the kind where they put the napkin in your lap for you, and they bring the food on huge plates with all of it made into a neat, prickly pile in the middle. So there's my veggies, my steak....and on top of the steak, this stuff that resembled tiny white worms. Piled high on top. Hmmm..I thought. Grated cheese? It's not melting..probably not cheese. I tasted a bit. Still no help. My son tasted a bit. Said it tastes a bit like coleslaw, but it's not coleslaw, because that's not cabbage. I said nope, not cabbage. Not cheese.

By now I'm beginning to feel out of my element. I raked it to the side and enjoyed my steak and veggies, but all the time, instead of enjoying the fantastic view of Seattle's skyline, I'm thinking about this pile of white stuff on my plate. I knew it would drive me nuts if I didn't find out. I mean, I watch Top Chef and all the food network shows. I know what foie gras is. I'm the one my husband asks if he doesn't know what something is on the menu. Most of the French cooking terms, I've at least heard of. So I finally asked the waiter. He gave me a look like what kind of idiot are you, Madam? And he said..get this..."It's PICKLED HORSERADISH." I started laughing. I've had prime rib with horseradish sauce, and it neither looked nor tasted anything like white stick worms. Anyway this was sirloin, not prime rib. I thought horseradish was spicy. This was bland. Anyway, I thought, Ok, I've learned something. More useless information.

Then I come home, turn on AOL to check my mail and see the headline that Jodie Foster has broken it off with her girlfriend of fourteen years. I'm sitting there thinking how sad...such a good friend for so long. I wonder what happened? Were they fighting over some man? Then my son informs me they mean girlfriend as in girlfriend. Huh? Jodie Foster? A lesbian? No way! Way, he says. So I'm thinking, maybe I should head back South, where I can be an expert on something. Like knowing turnip greens from collards, and how to cook both. How to cook pintos without having to soak them overnight. Things like that.

Maybe it has something to do with getting older. You think older means wiser, until you realize you don't know anything about pop culture, have never heard of any of the singing groups that have the groupies now. I know next to nothing about technology. I can't do HTML. I'd like to have a pretty webpage, but the few changes I've made have usually made it look worse instead of better.

I've always been a learner. I like to learn new things, but I know my limits. I'll never learn Latin. I'll never understand Sylvia Plath's poetry. I'll never program a computer. But for darn sure, I know what pickled horseradish looks like.