I Have A Food Thing

Good ol’ fashioned Upstate New York fish sandwich. $9. In the PNW, it would cost $115.

So, I have a food thing.  I don’t know where it lands on a scale of problems, or even if it is one.  It’s not a body image thing or a self-harm thing.  I’m not a germaphobe or obsessive or anything.  I just really, really like food. 

If your first reaction is “Everyone likes food,” that is simply not the case.  I have no idea of the percentages. I would not know how to measure it anyway. In fact, I would say most people don’t give a shit what they eat. They eat anything put in front of them.  Some are healthy eaters, some are picky.  Some have health restrictions.  Sure.  But that is eating. I’m talking about loving food.  I am interested in it.  I want it done well.  I want to make what I make better.  I want new, diverse, interesting meals.  I want to know if you ae the same way and whether or not it matters to you just as much as it matters to me.

I’m not a foodie.  That is a cute euphemism.  I don’t think food and fashion belong in the same sentence.

When I was a little kid, I used to dream about food.  I had one dream about a giant warehouse filled with giant bins of food.  I walked on catwalks above the bins and wondered which one I would jump into.  Fried chicken or M&M’s.  That’s what I’m talking about. My wife, a chef, is the same way.  We don’t care about travel and visiting places as much unless there is something interesting to eat.  We think of meals as something to do.  Not just fuel for activities.  The meal is the activity.

I look forward to meals.  I’ve planned entire days, outside of Thanksgiving, around a meal. 

I have to plan for my dinner every morning.  It has to be done.  I’ve learned that if you make theses food decisions early in the day, it leads to better eating.  I can’t imagine waiting until dinnertime to think of what to eat.  That makes no sense.

It is cultural.  Some cultures care, some do not.  We live in a mixed culture in US and I see it both ways.  Some people will eat the same soup all week long, and some people prep and cook every night. I do that.  I don’t care.  It’s worth the effort to eat something good. Or fresh. Or healthy. Or pleasing. Or tasty.

My real food thing is that I need to drop at least 30 pounds.  And by 30, I mean 40. So, you would think that overeating is the problem.  My guess is the sedentary life was the biggest culprit.  Less activity means less calories needed, which leads to overeating no matter what.  Okay.  I can handle that.  I can shrink portions, work around carbs.  All of that.  But I can’t give up on loving food.  I don’t know life without it.  I don’t want to know.  I don’t care about trading good food experiences for marathon running or even being on a softball team in my golden years.  I don’t give a shit.  I like food more.

I don’t think I’ve had a conversation with my mother that didn’t involve food at some point.  We talk about food at dinner with the Food Network on in the background.

I’m not talking fast food and trashy snacks and soda and store-bought cookies.  I’m talking real food.  Homemade with love and craftsmanship. And, if the subject of restaurants and where to get the best fill-in-the-blank in town, I’m all ears. 

People say that eating problems are the hardest because we all have to eat, so you are face to face with your problem every day.  I agree.  It’s pretty damn hard to deal with an eating issue.  I just can’t blame food for that. I like it too much.