As is probably evident to anyone who actually reads my blog by now, I am a somewhat adventurous eater. I will try almost anything once if it can be eaten, unless it comes from an animal that I can't bear to look at either alive OR dead, or from a part of an animal that I feel is absolutely not meant to be eaten. I will not, for example, under any circumstances, ever try eyeballs, tripe, or bone marrow. But aside from that, I'm open to a lot of different foods, I just haven't had the opportunity to try a lot of things (mostly because I'm too poor to go to restaurants that serve unconventional foods, or I don't know how to cook them myself). But there is one food, and actually the ONLY food, that completely grosses me out: marshmallows.
I. Hate. Marshmallows. Texture is a huge thing for me when it comes to eating. I love crunchy, I love melty, I and I love velvety. I do not, however, love the undescribable texture that is marshmallow. To me, although it tastes simply of sugar, the texture is a gooey mess that immediately adheres to the inside of the mouth as soon as it comes in contact with saliva, and clings like a spider monkey to your gums and tongue. To even think about it sends me into mental convulsions. When I eat a marshmallow, I feel like my mouth is being assaulted by a sugary, slimy, napalm that attacks my senses and feels like culinary nails on a chalkboard. Needless to say, I avoid it at all costs.
Unfortunately, it puts me at a culinary disadvantage. I don't eat Rice Krispies treats, several kinds of ice cream and a bunch of kinds of candy. It hurts my heart when perfectly good and delicious foods, like hot chocolate, cereal, and sweet potatoes are marred by a food I consider as inedible as an insect. And naturally, the Easter season makes me queasy.
Stores are lined with walls and walls of colored sugar-covered birds and rabbits, that while appealing and colorful, are deceitful. In rare cases (twice in my life, in fact) that I have attempted to eat a Peep, I have taken a small bite and given the rest to my Peep-addicted mother. I watch in disdain as she sets packages and packages of Peeps out weeks in advance to stale just slightly, so they get a mildly chewy texture. I have tried, in vain, to do my own doctoring to Peeps such that I might find them tolerable, but all methods have failed. Staled peeps still get slimy. I've tried to put Peeps in the microwave for a very short amount of time, with the hypothesis that the microwave will suck the moisture out of the Peep and make it crunchy. Instead, it just got untolerably chewy and brown (I never was very good at science).
Although my tastes have evolved slightly throughout my life, such that I now eat things I have not enjoyed in the past, such as asparagus and coffee, I still cannot enjoy a marshmallow. I don't know if I will ever not hate them, but I did successfully eat a single mini marshmallow in college on a dare without gagging. But at least during this Easter season, marshmallow and I are still in an epic battle. I hate them, and they taunt me.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Day Sixty-Two: The Wonder of a Cheeseburger
So I wrote a couple days ago about possibly starting a food blog, like the cheeseburger blog I saw. I also mentioned that it made me really, REALLY want a cheeseburger. What I didn't mention, is that my quest for a cheeseburger has not waned since then. I had a serious jonesin' for a beefy, cheesy goodness.
Despite the fact that I've eaten pretty much nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains for the past two and a half weeks, I was definitely willing, although slightly sad, to break my health kick for one beautiful, loaded, drippy cheeseburger. So I set aside the salad I packed myself for lunch on Friday and got the cafe's Kobe sliders for lunch instead. They were minature morsels of cheeseburger joy, with little potato bread buns. But upon biting into the well-prepared small plate item, I was supremely disappointed. The cheeseburger had not been nearly as good as I remembered it.
I sat in dismay, disappointed that I had broken my good eating for something so unsatisfying. Yet, I was even more disappointed that I still had an extreme craving for a good, juicy burger. So I knew I would have to follow the old saying: if you want something done right, do it yourself.
So I traipsed to the grocery store and purchased a pound of mostly-lean ground beef and a pack of whole-wheat buns (there's no reason to not make a good choice or two, right?). I walked home, and faced a mild fear I have: cooking ground beef. I always grew up learning from God knows where that ground beef, if not cooked through, would probably kill you. And I heard from many cooking shows that cooking a burger brown would probably be disgusting. So with the little cooking practice and high enthusiasm I have, I had to somehow cook a burger perfect enough to quell my craving. So I seared the patty, let it sit a few minutes on each side, and watched as juices ran out. After about ten minutes or so of eying the meat suspiciously, I took it off the skillet and let it rest for a few minutes. Then, I began the burger-building process. I toasted both sides of the bun, layered some sliced onion, laid down the brown burger-y goodness with a melty slice of American cheese on top, then added a tomato and a pickle, ketchup and mustard, capped it off, and admired its beauty.
And then I ate it. I ate it in five minutes, and it was glorious.
Although the meat was a little overcooked, it wasn't dry. It had all the glory of a good burger, and although it was greasy and fatty and drippy, I felt only slightly unhappy about my unhealthy choice. And I really, really hope I don't want another burger for another long while.
But when in doubt, always eat the burger.
Despite the fact that I've eaten pretty much nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains for the past two and a half weeks, I was definitely willing, although slightly sad, to break my health kick for one beautiful, loaded, drippy cheeseburger. So I set aside the salad I packed myself for lunch on Friday and got the cafe's Kobe sliders for lunch instead. They were minature morsels of cheeseburger joy, with little potato bread buns. But upon biting into the well-prepared small plate item, I was supremely disappointed. The cheeseburger had not been nearly as good as I remembered it.
I sat in dismay, disappointed that I had broken my good eating for something so unsatisfying. Yet, I was even more disappointed that I still had an extreme craving for a good, juicy burger. So I knew I would have to follow the old saying: if you want something done right, do it yourself.
So I traipsed to the grocery store and purchased a pound of mostly-lean ground beef and a pack of whole-wheat buns (there's no reason to not make a good choice or two, right?). I walked home, and faced a mild fear I have: cooking ground beef. I always grew up learning from God knows where that ground beef, if not cooked through, would probably kill you. And I heard from many cooking shows that cooking a burger brown would probably be disgusting. So with the little cooking practice and high enthusiasm I have, I had to somehow cook a burger perfect enough to quell my craving. So I seared the patty, let it sit a few minutes on each side, and watched as juices ran out. After about ten minutes or so of eying the meat suspiciously, I took it off the skillet and let it rest for a few minutes. Then, I began the burger-building process. I toasted both sides of the bun, layered some sliced onion, laid down the brown burger-y goodness with a melty slice of American cheese on top, then added a tomato and a pickle, ketchup and mustard, capped it off, and admired its beauty.
And then I ate it. I ate it in five minutes, and it was glorious.
Although the meat was a little overcooked, it wasn't dry. It had all the glory of a good burger, and although it was greasy and fatty and drippy, I felt only slightly unhappy about my unhealthy choice. And I really, really hope I don't want another burger for another long while.
But when in doubt, always eat the burger.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Day Forty-Eight: Restaurants, Though Delicious, are Evil.
I am on a major health kick, and so far it has been proving pretty easy. But when it comes to healthy eating, I am a "go big or go home" kind of gal. I am trying to eat only lean meats and proteins whenever I can, eat more vegetables, more whole grains, and I'm paying attention to the caloric content of the foods I eat, simply because I'm curious to know what healthy foods I thought were healthy before, really aren't. Basically, the whole thing is an experiment to see how healthily I can eat for how long, and how my body reacts (in which I am also eliminating as much added sugar from my diet as I can, just to see how I feel. That means no cookies, no cake, no chocolate, and no sugar in my oatmeal. So far, so good.).
At least, the process is easy when I'm making food for myself at home. This morning, for example, I had two hard-boiled eggs sprinkled with salt on a piece of wheat toast. It was only 250 calories, full of protein, not high in sodium, and I also got some whole grains. It also kept me full from 8:00 AM through to lunch at noon, which is unheard of for me, as I get hungry like every 2 hours. Pretty good deal. Lunch also wasn't too bad. I had a bowl of Kashi Go Lean! Crunch with fruit on it, and that kept me full until, around, 4 PM, which could have been better, but it wasn't bad.
The problem came when I was out at the mall with friends and got tummy rumble-ies. My plethora of healthy options was...the food court. I knew it was going to be a challenge, but I didn't realize how much of a challenge. I headed for Chick-Fil-A, and got the healthiest thing I could find -- a Chargrilled Chicken Cool Wrap with Light Italian dressing. The wrap was basically a salad of lettuce, a couple carrots and some red cabbage, with a couple pieces of grilled chicken inside a thick tortilla wrap. And I used a quarter-packet of the dressing, which was about 25 calories. I felt proud. Until I got home and looked up how much I had eaten. That measly wrap, which kept me full for a whopping three hours, was 415-ish calories (the "ish" is for the estimated dressing I used). I ate some pork tenderloin, a cup of green beans, and a little bit of pasta last night, WITH butter, and that was less. I was astounded, and annoyed. I realize tortillas are not really that healthy of a choice, but come on -- aside from that I was eating a frickin' salad, and a sad one at that. I was not pleased.
I know it's difficult to eat healthy when out on the go or at a restaurant, but is it honestly possible? I know a lot of restaurants offer "healthier choices," but they're still loaded with sodium, and are really, really boring (wow, salmon covered in "signature" grill seasoning (a.k.a. salt, salt, and more salt, and some spices) and a side of overcooked broccoli, all for only 350 calories? No way! I'm totally not missing out on eating the bacon cheeseburger!). And healthier protein options, such as salmon or grilled chicken, are always smothered in some kind of cheese or cream sauce that throws the whole notion right out the back door.
With this in mind, if anyone who's trying to live a healthier lifestyle wants to "treat" themselves by going out, what's the treat? You're eating something probably ten times not as good as what you could make yourself for the same amount of calories and a higher amount of sodium. It's really depressing. It makes me want to screw the whole thing when I get out and do it right, and get the chicken strips. And it definitely poses a handicap when going out with friends, if you're always the one who wants to go somewhere where you can get something not absolutely terrible for you. If it's not a national chain restaurant or a restaurant designed around allowing healthier options, it's probably not going to make the cut. That eliminates diners (unless you're happy with a really, really sad salad bar), pizza and sandwich joints, most chinese restaurants (although some serve brown rice, chicken and vegetables. Woo.), and just about all Mexican places. So, basically, anywhere fun. Mexican is my weakness, by the way -- I don't make sacrifices when it comes to tortillas, guacamole, and marinated beef.
No wonder America is so fat -- it's extremely difficult to find anything truly healthy on a menu. I'm not sure how long this health kick of mine will last (the longest it's ever lasted me has been a month, which isn't too bad, I think), but so far the results have been...hungry. But apparently we're designed to eat every four hours, so I think that's a good thing. But it's awfully inconvenient.
At least, the process is easy when I'm making food for myself at home. This morning, for example, I had two hard-boiled eggs sprinkled with salt on a piece of wheat toast. It was only 250 calories, full of protein, not high in sodium, and I also got some whole grains. It also kept me full from 8:00 AM through to lunch at noon, which is unheard of for me, as I get hungry like every 2 hours. Pretty good deal. Lunch also wasn't too bad. I had a bowl of Kashi Go Lean! Crunch with fruit on it, and that kept me full until, around, 4 PM, which could have been better, but it wasn't bad.
The problem came when I was out at the mall with friends and got tummy rumble-ies. My plethora of healthy options was...the food court. I knew it was going to be a challenge, but I didn't realize how much of a challenge. I headed for Chick-Fil-A, and got the healthiest thing I could find -- a Chargrilled Chicken Cool Wrap with Light Italian dressing. The wrap was basically a salad of lettuce, a couple carrots and some red cabbage, with a couple pieces of grilled chicken inside a thick tortilla wrap. And I used a quarter-packet of the dressing, which was about 25 calories. I felt proud. Until I got home and looked up how much I had eaten. That measly wrap, which kept me full for a whopping three hours, was 415-ish calories (the "ish" is for the estimated dressing I used). I ate some pork tenderloin, a cup of green beans, and a little bit of pasta last night, WITH butter, and that was less. I was astounded, and annoyed. I realize tortillas are not really that healthy of a choice, but come on -- aside from that I was eating a frickin' salad, and a sad one at that. I was not pleased.
I know it's difficult to eat healthy when out on the go or at a restaurant, but is it honestly possible? I know a lot of restaurants offer "healthier choices," but they're still loaded with sodium, and are really, really boring (wow, salmon covered in "signature" grill seasoning (a.k.a. salt, salt, and more salt, and some spices) and a side of overcooked broccoli, all for only 350 calories? No way! I'm totally not missing out on eating the bacon cheeseburger!). And healthier protein options, such as salmon or grilled chicken, are always smothered in some kind of cheese or cream sauce that throws the whole notion right out the back door.
With this in mind, if anyone who's trying to live a healthier lifestyle wants to "treat" themselves by going out, what's the treat? You're eating something probably ten times not as good as what you could make yourself for the same amount of calories and a higher amount of sodium. It's really depressing. It makes me want to screw the whole thing when I get out and do it right, and get the chicken strips. And it definitely poses a handicap when going out with friends, if you're always the one who wants to go somewhere where you can get something not absolutely terrible for you. If it's not a national chain restaurant or a restaurant designed around allowing healthier options, it's probably not going to make the cut. That eliminates diners (unless you're happy with a really, really sad salad bar), pizza and sandwich joints, most chinese restaurants (although some serve brown rice, chicken and vegetables. Woo.), and just about all Mexican places. So, basically, anywhere fun. Mexican is my weakness, by the way -- I don't make sacrifices when it comes to tortillas, guacamole, and marinated beef.
No wonder America is so fat -- it's extremely difficult to find anything truly healthy on a menu. I'm not sure how long this health kick of mine will last (the longest it's ever lasted me has been a month, which isn't too bad, I think), but so far the results have been...hungry. But apparently we're designed to eat every four hours, so I think that's a good thing. But it's awfully inconvenient.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Day Twelve: I Am All-Accepting, Non-Discriminatory, Easily-Pleased and Undereducated Foodie
Although a lot of things make me pretty happy, like writing, drawing, and reading, my two absolute favorite pastimes probably happen to be the least constructive of all the things I do: eating and sleeping. Actually, the only thing that rivals the feeling of laying snug in bed, drifting lazily in and out of consciousness to the quiet sounds of pipes or footsteps, and awaking drowsily surrounded by a warm mass of soft fabric, is tasting glorious, glorious food. I love sleeping, but I really love eating.
I am one of those people that will never turn down free food if it looks safe and clean. I love tastes of all kinds: sweet, savory, tangy, spicy, slightly unusual, or rustic and classical. I will try just about anything at least twice, as long as it isn't some strange part of an animal that performed a function other than working with bones to move it around. I was blessed by having a superhero-like metabolism to keep up with my constant eating, as I usually get hungry every three hours anyway, yet I'm still underweight for my height and age. But it isn't just the physical eating that makes my hobby so enthralling. I am constantly, and probably unhealthily, thinking about food. If I'm not watching Food Network, I'm reading recipes and food magazines. And if I had more money, I would likely cook constantly, even though I'm not fantastic at the process (I yield great results, I just burn myself as much as possible and fill the house with smoke). I'm fascinated by the way different tastes blend together and melt to create something wholly different. So why aren't I a chef?
To be honest, I have no idea. Mostly, it's because I didn't embark upon my food obsession until after I was already out of college, and secondly, I would hate the long hours, and I handle stress about as well as a chihuahua with ADHD. Sure, I could cater or work in a bakery, but I'm not sure I love cooking enough. In fact, I don't particularly love cooking at all. I cook things I really want to eat. It's the eating I love.
I thought for awhile about being a food writer, but most food writers need to know more than a fair amount about cooking, and I can't even make a proper egg over-easy half the time I try. I'm not a bad cook -- I just lack the practice and the knowledge. Besides, I feel like it would be a little difficult for me to pick apart the subtle nuances of food when I'm easily impressed by some cream cheese on a sesame water cracker. If a well-educated chef served me filet mignon with Roquefort sauce and shrimp ceviche, I wouldn't be able to pick a thing wrong with it if it wasn't burnt or raw. I just love food too much to care. I'm not a purist either, if it's good, it's good. I don't really care if it's at it's peak of perfection or freshness. Sure, it's nice and probably ten times better, and that's great, but I'm not going to get my panties in a twist about it. I would be an awful food writer.
So I'll be content with eating, and may my metabolism always be lightning fast. Either that, or may a gym with a cheap membership always be nearby.
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