Rob Rosenthal on His First Love
I'd like to tell you a story. But it's not about food. It's about my first love. No, not pizza, a real girl.
Who was the apple of my eye.
She was as sweet as sugar
and cool as a cucumber,
but a real hot tamale.
She was a good egg.
One smart cookie.
The greatest thing since sliced bread.
In a nutshell, the whole enchilada.
Together, we were like two peas in a pod.
I was nuts about her... happy as a clam.
I dreamt of bringing home the bacon…
rolling in the dough... and the day she'd have a bun in the oven.
Life would be a bowl of cherries.
So I thought.
But maybe I bit off more than I could chew.
What if I couldn't cut the mustard, but only cut the cheese?
Then one day the unimaginable happened.
I won't sugarcoat it: She dumped me… like a hot potato.
Did I stew over it? No. No use crying over spilt milk. But, I hit the sauce.
I had gone from having all my eggs in one basket to having egg on my face.
Let's talk turkey, my friends… sometimes that's the way the cookie crumbles.
Love hurts. Food never does.
Life is short. Never waste a meal.