Ordinarily, I tend pacifically to remain neutral, gentle and self-abnegating. But inwardly, I must confess, I am a foul, furious, ferocious, fell, fiend. On instances where an unwary soul delves too deeply into the inward recesses of honor and dignity without consideration of subject and suitability of content, I revert to this inner state of sarcasm which few but those who know me best are ever shown. This is not to excuse what follows. I must preview this post with a prior apology: offense was not the intent. Indeed, if a certain personage had contented himself with decrying the abominably poor substance of the narrative in question, rather than creating statements about chefs and his own unquestioned modesty, I would have applauded his insight and good taste in matters of literature. As the matter stands, however, I can only answer in kind. The review was "mostly harmless" but so is a goblet that is 90% wine and 10% arsenic!
I beg the reader to consider two items before proceeding to observe what follows.
"Every now and then, when I consider that I have seen and tasted food from nearly every country of this planet, I feel tempted to succumb to the blissful idea that there are no new ways for a given delicacy to disagree with my impeccable senses. Alas, upon my experience this evening, this must remain only a dream."
Sir, you are not too young to be disenchanted. Perhaps this experience will do those "impeccable senses" a little bit of good.
"A sense of foreboding came over me as I began to cut the dish, a sense which would not leave me for the entirety of its consumption."
May that 'forboding' swell to a ripe juicy plum of dread!
"Its stiff, flat texture seemed more susceptible to actual ripping than cutting."
True enough! If one must feed the dogs, one must expect them to rip meat rather than cut it.
"However, unlike others in my profession whom I could name, I am not a barbarian, and my sharpest knife made short work of it."
Very short work, as I have not yet become aware that any work has been accomplished at all!
"As the first bite approaching my acutely-sensitive tongue, I hesitated, and then, knowing never to accept defeat, I took the plunge."
Sir, your editor has been remiss. Note that in the current sentence construction, it appears that you sir, are the first bite approaching your own delicate tongue. Why you would lower your excellent morality by self-cannabalism, I cannot imagine. I assume that the answer lies in that you cannot accept defeat. Not to be outdone by those who would eat you, you have resolved to consume yourself first. Had you not been weakened by hunger at the beginning of this ordeal, you would have recognized the insanity of this type of reasoning.
"It was dry stuff. In a moment of weakness I half-rose, looking to procure one of my better sauces to improve it - but I was stayed. After all, a comestible must be judged on its own quality. To do otherwise is to do a favor to the chef, and if there is one type of person who does not deserve our favors, it is chefs."
Certainly chefs do not deserve your favors anymore than you deserve theirs. But there is an old proverb which states, "Do not bite the hand that feeds you."
"They exist to do favors for us."
Your humility, sir, is overwhelming! Surely, you are the fountain of meekness! First you assume that the work of a chef is a favor, and then you decide that this favor is meant solely for your personal pleasure! [author kneels] "To hear is to obey, your lordship. My life is yours. Here is my neck for the severing at your will. The purpose of my existence is to do favors for you. I demand nothing else." [author spits] "Bah! Ugghh!" [shivers]
"But I am nothing if not a martyr, and I bore the sacrifice soberly."
You are not yet a martyr, therefore you are, as of yet, nothing.
"Without waiting the usual period, I immediately had my permanent book brought forth to pen this review, and in the back, where all is written in indelible pen, I made a note never again to accept a meal from said personage."
Your wisdom, sir, is indeed to be commended. It is seldom that one makes so swift a choice that leads to so much benefit for both himself and the object of his rejection. The author must then presume that these words will never reach the ears, or rather the eyes, of the said 'fountain of meekness'.
"It is only with a heavy hand that such skookum words down which I thusforth set, but there are some things which must be done."
Does the heaviness of hand result from an iron grip of fist?
Yes! Some things must be done. What you do, do quickly!
"A good read is precisely what I could use, now."
As a good chef, existing only for your favor, I must object. What you could use at the present moment is a square meal of bread and water followed by a sound night's sleep on a cot of unplaned warped boards. This would improve your worldview immensely.
"Just be glad I refrained from commenting on every post. ;)"
Apparently, the author need not fear such comments. It has been plainly stated that you sir, do not wish to devour, consume, or otherwise ingest any other course proffered by such an incompetent chef. But if you dare to sacrifice the honor of your word, be sure of this: One who puts on his armor should not boast like one who takes it off! You are forewarned!