Regular Size Life with Cheese Combo
Today I ate a large chunk of my grandmother's left over dry pork, pita bread, cheap Armenian hummus from a can, and 2 rough Bugs Bunny carrots, which I washed down with pomegranate green tea.
Last night I had a big walnut muffin with beer.
The day before yesterday I made my own salad with lettuce, hard boiled eggs, the cheapest ranch dressing I could find and ChexMix(tm).
There's something fundamentally freeing about not eating what you grew up to recognize as a complete meal. These days, living on my own means I don't have the time or money anyway. Still, every time I come up with some new substitution or scheme around the, dare I say, Fascist food pyramid I do a little dance in the name of broader horizons. Necessity, it's true, is the mother of invention and boredom, it is also true, is the mother of creativity. It's fascinating to watch my brain work it out sometimes: raw vegetables save time, Chinese take out does not keep well, never eat too much from the often life saving 7Eleven "fresh" menu, always agree to take home left over everything, potato chips as a substitute for healthier starch, condiment packet roulette, fresh juice is your friend, and remember to eat a fruit every now and then otherwise you get scurvy.
The new goal? I'm conducting a thought experiment right now on the question: Can I live healthy in a studio apartment with no kitchen? The plan is to have a tiny refrigerator and a microwave. No kitchen sink, stove or toaster means no toast, no heavy stews, no fresh pasta, and no baked anything. I might need one of those plug in convection ovens or a George Foreman grill.
Excited? Much. The prospect of food based problem solving through practical creativity makes me giddy.
Last night I had a big walnut muffin with beer.
The day before yesterday I made my own salad with lettuce, hard boiled eggs, the cheapest ranch dressing I could find and ChexMix(tm).
There's something fundamentally freeing about not eating what you grew up to recognize as a complete meal. These days, living on my own means I don't have the time or money anyway. Still, every time I come up with some new substitution or scheme around the, dare I say, Fascist food pyramid I do a little dance in the name of broader horizons. Necessity, it's true, is the mother of invention and boredom, it is also true, is the mother of creativity. It's fascinating to watch my brain work it out sometimes: raw vegetables save time, Chinese take out does not keep well, never eat too much from the often life saving 7Eleven "fresh" menu, always agree to take home left over everything, potato chips as a substitute for healthier starch, condiment packet roulette, fresh juice is your friend, and remember to eat a fruit every now and then otherwise you get scurvy.
The new goal? I'm conducting a thought experiment right now on the question: Can I live healthy in a studio apartment with no kitchen? The plan is to have a tiny refrigerator and a microwave. No kitchen sink, stove or toaster means no toast, no heavy stews, no fresh pasta, and no baked anything. I might need one of those plug in convection ovens or a George Foreman grill.
Excited? Much. The prospect of food based problem solving through practical creativity makes me giddy.