Dying for a fish fillet

The cravings are killing me lately. Fasting is easiest for me in the beginning…. and then as the days go by without snacking…..I start to feel a little unstable.

Last night I made sure the husband had “normal” food for dinner, but I had compiled an assortment of things I felt I needed. Lentil soup. Kale Salad. Strawberry-Mango flatbread.  Sushi. Doritos. The night ended with a headless chocolate bunny left in the fridge….. only because I couldn’t scarf down his body quietly enough to avoid detection. That will be tonight…….

I stopped to talk to someone today, she had just eaten a hot dog, and that little end of the bun was left on her plate, sitting there all alone. Probably with a tiny end of hot dog nestled inside. and ketchup. maybe cheese.

I wanted it.

Has it come to this? Coveting discarded hot dog pieces?

And now, I can’t stop thinking about McDonald’s fish fillet. Something my grandma was very fond of as well. I stay away….mostly….from them. Sometimes though…. it’s really all you need for happiness. A perfect blend of soft, warm bun, tartar sauce, cheese, and questionable fish. Mmmmmmmmm.

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A taste of my life

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I love food.

I think about it a lot, and recently realized that so many of my important memories and “great moments” have been cemented in my head partly because of their association with my digestive system.

Not just those stolen moments with a bag of little chocolate donuts… of which there are many…..

but really significant and special moments.

Like being 4 years old. Kneeling on a chair in the kitchen as Grandma rolls out the dough to make noodles for her chicken soup. I can smell the flour, feel it spread over the cheesecloth she had covering the table; cool, smooth, whispery between my fingers, the dough soft and eggy. Grandma in her housedress, one of thousands it seemed. I can hear her voice talking to me, I can close my eyes and I am THERE. God, I miss her. And her soup.

My first trip to France, what else to do but literally eat my way through Paris?? We found the best gelato. Amazing. And it became necessary to stop and get more at that same gelato stand each day until we went home. I still pine for it, both the chocolate and the mango. It was too good for me to even try another flavor. Refreshing, yet somehow complex, like all things should be in Paris. We walked everywhere there, ate crepe’s from a street vendor (of course!), took a very long walk to the Sacre Coeur, and found a delightful candy shop along the way. Finished our walk eating from a bag of bulk candy and ended with an amazing view and black licorice breath.

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Oh, there are the bad associations of course. Who could ever forget the flavor of mom’s steak teriyaki after tasting it at dinner…..and then repeatedly during the night as the entire family shared a delightful gastroenteritis. I won’t. I won’t ever forget that taste. And I will never eat it again. We always remember what that last meal was before our GI tract shifts into a hard reverse….

No photo necessary.

I think it must be true that when we really experience a moment using all of our senses, including taste,  that moment stays with us. Forever I hope… at least the good moments.