Eating out usually means I eat more garbage. Not to cast aspersions on the value of my Chipotle burritos. They are tasty and delicious, but I'm not sure eating them four times a week is the best approach to nutrition. Not cooking is making me fat, it's making me spend more money, and it's making me Salieri-jealous of those Brooklyn girls who frequent the farmer's markets with their totes and ponytails and braise, steam, chop, and julienne vegetables instead of letting them rot in the fridge.
Also, and not to get too annoying, but I feel like our relationships to food can be good indicators of how we operate in other areas of our lives. My contact with food always feels fun in the moment (please find me a person who wouldn't love a breakfast of coconut cream doughnuts from Donut Plant), but open closer inspection, it's kind of drab and boring. I just grab whatever's close and cheap and hope it fills me up. That sounds a little like the relationship between a john and a prostitute. Or like dating someone you only see when you're drunk. There's the initial rush of excitement and the mad dash to tear some clothes off, but afterwards, you can feel a little empty and a lot hungover.
So I'm going to try my hand at cooking. I'll take baby steps. A few meals a week to get me going. But seeing as how I'm working with this,
salieri-jealous. im stealing that.
ReplyDeleteIt's all yours. I won't even expect attribution.
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