When I was younger, I read a story about a girl who lived on top of a mountain.
Each morning, she would look out across the expanse of the valley and on a parallel mountaintop she would see a little village very similar in size to her own mountaintop village — with one exception. The village seemed to glow. She thought everything looked more lush and beautiful there. The grass greener, the buildings brighter. Everything looked spun out of gold and not clay and mud like her village.
She decided to set out on a perilous voyage to descend her mountain and cross the valley to scale the opposite mountain and find herself in the village of splendor. I’ll spare you the details (you did come here to read about food after all and not a synopsis of a kid’s book).
Long story short, she scales the mountain to realize that the village looks exactly the same as hers. Dry grass, mud and clay housing. She looks out across the valley to see her own little mountain village is indeed, bathed in gold.
While the intended metaphor was of the “grass is greener on the other side” variety, I think there was a real missed opportunity here.