Sophistication

Aw, poor Stacie. I really fancied her for reaching the Masterchef final with Doctor Tim.

But look what she did!

But Solv, what's wrong with a smiley face? It's fun! I bet the judges found it hilarious and/or endearing!
Ho hum...

Had the misguided girl had presented such a plate of food at a children's/Mad Hatter's tea party, it might indeed have been well-received. But cooking at Masterchef level demands a degree of sophistication, and her plate was branded 'ludicrous'.

The one reason above all others that I so adore Hemingway is that he routinely elicits unusual emotional responses from me; he touches me in unique, curious, thought-provoking ways. Oh, I can happily read a bit of pulp fiction, or watch a mindless horror flick, and they can deliver a burst of what's good for you. But they are, all said and done, anonymous, recycled caprices.

I can get jiggy with a bit of disposable pop, and I can greatly admire a five-year-old's artistic take on a landscape; but the range and depth of emotional response does not compare to anything that might pour from the soul of Mozart or Kandinsky. Without casting any aspersions on their validity or honesty, the former are easily mimicked, effortlessly formulated; however, the latter are rare and unique and cannot be precisely reproduced by mere mortals.

Apparently, Stacie's nosh passed the taste test! But her plating was deemed indicative of an inappropriate aesthetic - or poor judgement - and her apron was laid to rest.

(Lay or laid? Compare to or with? The Easter grammar revisal starts here and here! Heaven knows my wits are dull enough already! Let's have a smiley! :o)