I’m hot for food. I covet it; this lust for food a sin for which there is no penance, no relief. Cue the psychiatrists: I’m sure that’s fantastic fodder for a diagnosis of some random psychosis I developed as a result of a suppressed emotional gap in my subconcious, blah, blah, blah. Whatever, diagnose away. And while you’re doing that, I’ll be stuffing my face with some delightful burger smothered in bleu cheese and dripping with sautéed creminis and slick, dark, caramelized onions, indulging the most ludicrous of fantasies: that this burger is infinite, and my high will never end.
Even as I’m running, sweating, grunting up hills, lungs burning, for God’s sake, I’m thinking of nothing but food. Running (which I only do so I feel slightly less guilty about what I put in my body), one foot in front of the other, passing the time, counting the minutes until that next fix: a briny olive I snack on, a crumbled chunk of parmesan cheese, a gorgeous blonde chicken broth being ladled into my risotto, a salty, crispy slice of bacon that runs through the playground of my mouth and whose very essence rushes straight to the heart of me. Breathtaking, gorgeous, sensual; food is my Achilles’ heel, my lover who will never truly leave me satiated. Arguably, my biggest foodie sin is my infidelity to the meal at hand. As soon as I have finished with my victuals, it’s on to the next one. I toss those memories off the bed like a casual lover, and stride out the door, coat thrown over my shoulder, strolling, swaggering even, towards my next conquest. I worshipped it in the moment, that meal, but now…now it is time for me to find the next bite. Hoping, praying, begging for it to satisfy my Food Lust. Simultaneous resignation to the reality that nothing ever will.
…And, that’s pretty much how I feel about food.
What I ultimately hope to do is share my experiences in eating and cooking. To communicate my appreciation for, and borderline worship of, the stuff of life: food, its many forms, and the many places one can gather to share with the human collective in the dining experience. The pulse, the ebb and flow of ingredients through Life. I seek only to celebrate, never to criticize, and to create a narrative of how food has felt, smelled, and reared its stunning head.
Welcome to my obsession, my happiness, My Story. Enjoy.