I'm Obsessed With Food.

[I do talk about some weight loss here, but only in a “lifestyle change” way. Dieting is terrible. Food is glorious. We like food. This is about my love of food and how it’s improving my life, I guess.]

It’s Mother’s Day. I should be working. I’m always working these days, so writing brings me little joy. I hope to change this, because life is nicer when writing brings me joy. I’ll get there, I’m sure.

But I’ve been thinking of you, readers, and have been wanting to drop by.

Perhaps if I make it simpler, just notes, we’ll have more time together and I’ll get back in touch with the simplicity of writing and not the convoluted world of “publishing,” where one obsesses on headings and pictures and white space and all that bullshit that makes it work, not fun.

Never know unless one tries, hey?

So, I’m thinking of food memories today.

I don’t even remember what made me go CORNISH GAME HEN yesterday, but it was a snippet in a cooking show. Someone did something tasty and yum and I remembered I had one in the freezer, so I thought, “Oh, I’ll have THAT tonight.”

But of course, there’s no way it could thaw that quickly. Next day? No problem.

It wasn’t until later that I realized I had a lovely memory of Cornish game hens at Christmas 1994 with my mom. The memory’s for me, but it came down to Cornish game hens being easier to achieve for Christmas with just the two of us at the table. I’ve only cooked it a few times, but it should be nice. The brining should compensate for its long deep freeze. We hope.

[Carbonara with peas, guanciale, and duck egg, and homemade pasta.]

I considered buying some wine for tonight, but I’ve decided against it, because I’m trying to disconnect alcohol from sad memories and grief and all that. I’d rather only drink when I’m making a wonderful meal for myself just because I can, rather than honouring the past or mourning things. I think it’s part of my removing alcohol from my life as a crutch.

(I still drink wine, but instead of 30-35 bottles monthly, it’s around 2 now.)

Originally, I cut down on booze for health reasons. I was feeling terrible, I’d gained another 50 pounds, and it affected every part of my life.

Two years in, I drink less all the time, and I still haven’t reversed all the inflammation and health issues of a couple decades of heavy drinking, but I’ve lost the “gained” weight and I’m feeling better than I have in a long time.

I’ve got a lot more weight to lose before my body is feeling good, I suspect, but I’m not in a rush, I’m not dieting, I’m not obsessing about anything or counting calories or any of that.

I don’t have a goal weight or size, all I want is to feel good and not have to be scared of travelling or anything holding me back ever again.

I obsessed about weight loss before, the calorie fixation and the obsessive exercising, and all that. I destroyed my back through the exercising and pushing too hard, and the eating changes were unrealistic, because I never loved any of what I ate. It was healthy, but it didn’t feed my soul. All the weight came back because I didn’t make sustainable choices. I’ll never do that again.

Instead, I’m learning to make food delicious, and learning how to use and prepare more veggies in more interesting ways, while elevating my meats and eating less of them. It’s a creative exercise and where my energies go, rather than sitting at my desk longer to write more, when I write too much for work these days.

It’s not all veggies, because I still eat cheese and butter. I make my own pasta from scratch, and bread and buns and pancakes and waffles, and I have pizza four times a month — but I make everything from scratch now.

I’m also mindful of portions, partly because I cook with a digital scale more — it’s easier and more accurate for measurements, but it’s also education for me in terms of portions. My pizza, for example, is now 35% smaller in size — a nice 11” pie I feel little guilt about, especially since I seldom have wine with it and usually take a walk after it.

These days, I don’t eat out of packages or buy commercial food. I even make my own mayonnaise. If I want chips, I cut the potato myself and deep-fry it. Then, I also often make things like chicken or onion rings in the air fryer – always from scratch – so that I enjoy food I like.

[Halibut en papillotte with lemon, herbs, and butter, plus homemade chips.]

The not-buying-packages thing is about health, first and foremost, but it’s also political. I’m outraged at the conglomerates that own everything now. (Like Nestle, who own 2,000 brands. It’s evil that any one company should control so much in so many countries, but hey, what do I know?)

And once you realize how much you overpay for substandard stuff, it’s outraging. I can take a 60-cent potato and use 50 cents of oil to make chips that are far better than any packaged food and has zero additives, compared to a large bag I’d pay $3 for. Another example is, I can make more than I’d get in a $6.99 tub of ricotta for just $2.50.

Making my own food is how I talk with my money. It’s political, while also being better for my soul and my health.

I think eating 98% non-processed food is a major change in my life. Now, I need more veggies. I’ve made lots of other small changes already, like black coffee instead of cream. If I have “cream cheese” on my toast now, it’s whipped ricotta I made myself; besides being higher in calcium and protein, it’s just milk with no stabilizers or additives. It feels like it’s making a difference, and I like that.

These days, food is where my creativity goes.

How do I make tasty, delicious food that doesn’t make me resent eating more vegetables? How do I find a balance that works for me and makes me feel like I’m lucky to be eating so well, rather than feeling like I’m left out “because healthy”?

[NB: Those are rhetorical “hows” — I’m not seeking advice. This is a self-directed journey I’m really enjoying right now, and it’s my journey, my way, on my time.]

And tonight, it’ll be with Cornish game hen. I’ve been deliberating on sides for a while – should I do risotto with leeks and a nice roasted hen? Or do I finally use my fresh tarragon to pimp up a bird roast, as I’ve wanted to do for years because storebought tarragon is so sad? With a roast, I could make a delicious mash and veg and gravy, of course.

I’ve decided on the latter, because if my mother was alive, I think she’d like a good roast dinner. Old-school but exciting flavours, that was her bag.

I’d love to have some wine for the sauce, but hey, I got lemon.

And you know what? No matter how much butter I want to use tonight, I’m gonna go with it, because sometimes you just need butter.

***

Food is so powerful. It feeds the soul, if you let it. I’m trying to learn ways in which I can feed my soul a little better, and in so doing, I find myself more satisfied and able to fight cravings.

It’s hard to feel like you’re suffering when eating fresh pasta made with duck egg, you know? And it’s also harder to overeat when you have a fixed amount you’re preparing for the meal — you can’t tip a little extra out of the box when you’re only making 120 grams of pasta total, right? But when it tastes that good, who cares about seconds? I eat a little slower, try to be mindful of how damn good it is, and just relish the experience.

The only thing missing from this glorious world of delicious things are people to share it with.

There are a couple people I invite over, but I miss dinner parties. I keep thinking I’d like to run a supper club one day — three courses, 10 people. How fun that would be!

Sometimes, it feels like all I’ve got left from 4 years of my life are cooking techniques and photos I took in stunning places around the world. But as far as “all I gots” go… hey, not bad. Cooking techniques will last me a lifetime, and the photos look great in my space and I’ve got about another 50,000 pictures to choose from in the future.

***

I have never really thought about it, but I have to say… today, I’m so glad I was a good cook when my mother was alive.

If cooking for people is showing them love, then she sure got hers. I know how hard her life was in the last five years she was alive, and I think I realize now how much she must have appreciated coming home to meals I made.

[A favourite breakfast now — walnuts, asparagus, and poached eggs on top of ricotta whipped with lemon zest and white pepper.]

Of course, I’m a better cook now. Improving all the time, because I picked up a cooking show obsession in the pandemic. I look forward to the day when I can share this with more people. Well-fed people are pleasant to have around, I find, and knowing I’m the one who fed them well always makes me happy.

So, once again tonight, I’ll make myself a beautiful meal, snap a photo of it for social media, then enjoy it solo. I get a couple dozen “likes” on any post, at best, but I love to hear when someone has poached an egg or made mayonnaise or a curry because I shared something that inspired them. That way, I’ve managed to make someone else happy through food. And isn’t that what it’s all about?

Also, social media sharing is a great reminder to myself of things I created and played around with. Scrolling through my Instagram can be inspiring and useful for meal planning, even just personally.

Ahh… food. And then, how will I feel in a year or two when I thumb through photos and see tonight’s feast? Depends how it turns out, and I don’t have a crystal ball — just crossed fingers.

I may add grainy mustard to my mash. Leeks too. Would Mom like that? Probably.

The tarragon in the hen, though, is a throwback to one of the fanciest meals I ever made for her, a Wolfgang Puck recipe, in the last couple years of her life.

I made a fancy Bernaise sauce that time, but I’ll nix the butter sauce tonight because there’ll be butter, glorious butter, in all the things. (Funny thing is, I only learned it was a Bernaise sauce last year.)

I know other people don’t have the time to make the choices I’m making, but it’s not like I did this all at once.

I started with making my own bread, that’s it. Now and then I made yogurt or ricotta, but now I make it more often because I want the calcium.

Pasta, I only really began making that in the last year, and regularly only recently. Believe me, my freezer works hard for me, holding packets of frozen fresh pasta, bags of cooked lentils, and more.

Hey, ANYTHING you make for yourself is brilliant — start with one thing, anything, and grow from there. It’s a pretty good guideline for anything to be changed or improved in life. But even if that’s the only thing for a while? Good for you!

I’ll have to think of what music to listen to that would be Mom Suitable* as I cook, because it’s looking like a long and messy, very tasty cook tonight. Which is just fine with me. That’s what the dishwasher is for, and I just unloaded it. Game on.

Have a wonderful dinner, whatever you eat.

S.

*Perhaps the Forrest Gump Soundtrack. It’s good for covering all the Boomer bases, isn’t it?