I eat out a lot. I mean really a lot – probably 6 days a week. This is only possible as a result of my freakish metabolism which, whilst more than likely transient, currently allows me to eat whatever I want whenever I want and still seriously lack in the curvature department.
I’ve no doubt I’ll wake up on my 30th birthday the size of Shamu but for now, let there be food. I always try and stick to the independent places because, whilst I don’t put on weight, I’m conscious of what I put in my body in the sense that I prefer everything to be fresh, and made just how I like it. I never go to fast food joints. I like shit like kale for a side, pomegranate in my salad, freshly made lemonade that makes my tastebuds cha cha slide around my mouth. I want a new special origin every week. Lord knows I want locally-sourced everything. Details are everything to me, so I want to be able to talk to the owner about whey they chose that particular font on the menu. I love local, non-chain places with bursting personalities and mismatched chairs. And whilst that may put me out of pocket slightly more than a Big Mac would, if it’s going towards funding more of these places, that’s fine by me.
And, unsurprisingly I’m always Tripadvisor-ing my experiences. I had an email today to say I’m in the top 3% on there, which is possibly the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard but in any case spurred me to wonder about foodie blogging on here. Is that equally as tragic? God knows. Probably. But I’m going to roll with it for now, mainly because I’ll be free to use expletives at will, a talent which I cherish yet which I feel Tripadvisor does nothing for, to be quite frank. Bastards.
It’s not going to be Complex worthy, I grant you that, but it might provide some cool ideas about where to get a latte, and where to avoid like the plague, in and around Birmingham.
Recommendations welcome. Pictures will accompany where possible.
It’s kale time motherfuckers.