I'm No James Beard.

I hate mayonnaise. So much so, I don't even care if I spelled the word right. In restaurants, if ever there is any question that a dish may come with mayonnaise on it, I am sure to ask the server and then request it be left off. If it shows up on my food, I send it back. I claim an allergy.

Occasionally, when I go to a fancier dining establishment, I rarely see mayonnaise listed as an ingredient. Instead, items are usually served with any sort of an aioli. For reasons unknown (why are you the way that you are, Michael Scott would ask me), I assumed that aioli was a foreign word for mayonnaise (shut it, I realize mayonnaise is itself a foreign word). So I treated aioli just as I treat mayonnaise, i.e. "HOLD THE AIOLI!"

Well, allow me to let you in on something I leared today. AIOLI IS NOT MAYONNAISE! It is something else entirely. And it doesn't sound bad.

I sit here now going back over all of the food dishes I've ordered and for which I denied myself the aioli that went with them. I want to go out tonight and try some aioli. However, I'm pretty busy these days.

I got a Chronik membership for the Salt Lake Film Society. I've wanted one for a number of years, but this year, I went for it. And now, I think I'm going to cancel my cable and DVR and take myself to the pictures every night. I'm going to be a cinephile. Though it does seem a bit odd that when I finally break down and get that membership, I discover that Cinemark - specifically the theater on 33rd South - has started a CineArt program. They are now showing arty films that traditionally only went to the Broadway and Tower. To wit, they have an exclusive engagement for Frost/Nixon. If they get an exclusive engagement for The Wrestler, I'll go ape.

In other news, I really enjoyed Doubt.

Today's Song: Naughty Girl, Mr. G.