Welcome to my other blog. I started this one shortly after graduating from the C.I.A, to differentiate between my food and my other thoughts. It's a cozy little place with frequent weird but real, honest thoughts.

There's really not much more to say here, as anything mildly interesting is either down below or written in my Armadillo section above.
Hope you can relate to some of my thoughts and situations, even if they tend to be strange sometimes

Friday, July 5, 2013

Food For Thought

Food is the worst kind of compulsion to have. You can't escape it. You can live without good wine (but why?), you can live without caffeine and other drugs.
It's weird to think of a time, thousands of years ago, when food was just fuel. There wasn't a choice. You ate what was there and that was it. This is true throughout all of history, but for those ancestral monkeys or whatever the latest Christian Ultra conservative is denying about evolution, there was pretty much assorted berries, roots and whatever speared animal they could find. Huh. Can you imagine? No steamed broccoli, or pulled pork? Jeeze.

Food is something that completely commandeers the majority of my thoughts. It's a fixation. I'm always thinking about the next meal. If I'm just sitting down to dinner, I'm mentally going over anything sweet for dessert, even if it's just butterscotch chips. I don't diet, and we have plenty of food in the house at all times. It goes beyond that. It's an obsession of love.
 I'm barely three bites into dinner or finishing cooking dinner when I'll ask Matt "What should we have for dinner tomorrow!?" eager for his input on utilizing the freezer. I justify it to myself that I like to plan ahead, and know what's coming next.
I always know what's in the freezer. I have a constant inventory in my head of the assorted inexpensive cuts of meat. At the ready to be called into duty of being slow cooked into chicken with cranberries over rice, or beef stir fry.
I text Matt my dinner suggestion for the day. He rarely responds. It's fine with me, it's more involving him in the process of planning that I love. Like a real family.  He's easy to please. I enjoy the thought of planning, cooking a meal and watching him genuinely happy to hear and smell it cooking, and then sit and eat it with gusto.
 Tonight I once again was reminded of something my mother used to say  when we were growing up or preparing meals "I don't care if it's peanut butter and jelly, as long a I don't have to cook.". Walking up the stairs I hear the click of the oven preheating and find that dinner is in the oven. It's not what we planned on eating, and on top of that it's the same thing I had for lunch. But I was hot, sticky and tired. I was just so damn happy to be eating something I didn't care what it was.

It's kinda strange. I was a picky eater growing up. Food was always a constant, showing love or good intentions or joy. Any emotion, really. Nothing made a day better than hearing the chicken cutlets shallow frying. Some kids love the sound of a carnival. I loved the popping of the oil.
I guess I'm still a little picky. I love to eat, but I'm rather unadventurous. I like the things I like, and it takes a lot to go outside my comfort zone. It took me years and a few weeks at the C.I.A to discover the Wonderful World of Broccoli. And damn, broccoli, where've you been all my life!? It took longer for me to meet Matt and have him open up his tastes to me. Duck? Rabbit? Sure......uh, once a year?

With our tight food budget, it's all I can do. Dream about food. The pork tenderloin on a grill, The produce. Oh, the produce! With summer, the displays are crammed with assorted berries, letting off an intoxicating, almost indecent with its sweet aromatics. I dream of strawberries with just a little bit of sugar. Peaches churned into ice cream. It leaches into my dreams, making the flavor of everything stronger and more torturing. Don't get me wrong, I've pulled some seriously delicious meals. Thrift does me well, and I almost always succeed in the flavor department. If we had a bit more money to spend, I doubt I'd use it on food, since we do pretty well on our own. I love a good deal and if you know where to look at the grocery store, you can find some pretty great things.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is, this obsession makes me crazy sometimes. Like when your gym is next door to a Mcdonalds. And the smell of McNuggets and french fries cooking makes you so insane you resist the urge to RUN to your car and drive FAR AWAY until the craving gets out of control. Even though I may be a poser with my chary eating habits, I still obsess and long to cook the next meal, throw together the next rice pudding, or make the next jam. I feel lucky to have married someone who enjoys eating (most of) the things I make.