Let Them Eat...Gravy.

I was given this book by a dear friend for Christmas.

 



And it is delightful.

And yes, it is called “How to cook a wolf.”

Written during WWII by apparently MFK Fisher, it is somewhat of an anthology about food with some very good, eye-opening recipes and tips in it…along with huge doses of underlining-worthy hilarity.

And it is delightful.

Yes, I just said that twice.

This year my food tastes have changed DRASTICALLY.

Up to this point in my personal history there has only been one real time in my life when they have changed this much.

Ok. That’s not entirely true.

Let me say something different.

Never before have my food tastes changed this much. Once before have my food habits changed this much.

That was a miracle.

This is simply preference.

But now I am getting more preferences than I ever thought I would. Oh gosh. My tongue is becoming high maintenance.

So the short version of my story with food speedily goes something like this: Jesus once took this girl who didn’t eat, and he introduced her to himself. Years passed. And now she eats. And for a while she ate a lot. Too much. Of things that she realized she didn’t even like! And now it seems that He is telling her what she actually DOES like to eat, and therefore should probably not waste her time eating other things. What a novel concept! Only eat things you like! The end.

Ha.

When my crazy busy summer planning an ungodly amount of parties (see the picture of the pretty wedding?)

 was finally over, I wrote this little ditty one night after eating a bowl of gravy and LOVING it and eating a piece of wedding cake and saying, “Meh”:

Well.

It’s decided.

After a long weekend of being in charge of 1 party and 4 weddings I have finally decided and am entirely convinced:

I prefer gravy to cake.

It has come at a bit of a blow to my personal notions of how I always thought I viewed food. I was always a most willing subject. Trying anything---which I still will do---, never refusing homemade bread and jelly---which I still won’t---, declaring with all gusto, “I LOVE CILANTRO!!”---which I still yell---, and always,  always taking a piece of cake---which now I won’t.

*Tear.

But alas. For the sake of my taste buds and my no-need-to-increase-in-size backside, I will now say, “No, I don’t really care for most desserts. Sugar is a dumb food. It takes no thought to recognize sugar. Sweet is just sweet.”

I know, I know. This goes against the masses.

But my tongue is thanking me. It needs more of an education at dinner.

Store-bought cookies will never again suffice.

~~~~

Here is why I feel that way: The main thing I have decided and that is different for me is I prefer savory foods to sweet foods. This is why I say that: If you are craving something sweet, almost anything will do. Your tongue recognizes sugar pretty much right away. It can be candy or fruity tasting gems, or chocolate, whatever, just so long as it has SUGAR. If it’s got sugar, in an instant you know it. And are thereby satisfied.

However, savory food usually requires a little more thought. There have been numerous times where I have had a savory food in my mouth, closed my eyes, and had to say, “What in the world is in my mouth!?” before I understood it. Savory foods also tend to be a little more complex or interesting. A lot of times there are many layers of flavor to savory foods. When it comes to dessert, if it ever comes to that, I am starting to forego basic sweet items in preference to something interesting and still DELICIOUS.

I have also decided I want to say “No” to nominal desserts with high calories so that when something grand comes with REALLY high calories I can justify gorging myself.

J

I’m kidding.

Kind of.

It’s hard for me to believe it has come to this, but the longer I go on the more and more convinced I have become.

Remember how I said I was doing this December-long detox? Yeah, well I did, and now I am ruined for anything else to eat at lunch! The other day work was crazy busy, so when a pizza finally arrived at 4 pm I was thrilled, expecting the feeling that always used to encircle me upon the first bite.

But nothing came.

And then I took another bite.

And nothing came…except for another piece.

And then another.

And then I just had to make myself stop because three pieces of pizza is ridiculous and I don’t care that it had been 9 hours since breakfast.

The worst part was I then had to succumb to the terrible gnawing in my stomach that I had just consumed 1500 calories in 5 minutes and didn’t feel like I had eaten anything.

Why? Because pizza is fluff. Pizza does not satisfy. Pizza is like idolatry: the reason it works is because it doesn’t work and it produces in you an unavoidable need to keep going back to fill up that hole that is your stomach and that pit that is your daily need of vitamin intake.

Was that a run-on sentence?

What I am trying to say is NOT that I think pizza is bad. No, no, no. No no no no no. What I am saying is that 8 months ago I would have loved that lunch of pizza.

But now? I suckered myself into feeling a need for much more difficultly prepared fare.

Detox has ruined me. Eating appetizers and desserts at 106 parties this summer has ruined me. My appetite for such things has been removed.

That cookbook is also enforcing my new-fangled concepts on food.

What really is this world coming to?

Can a girl not live her life with biscuits uninterrupted?

Apparently not.

Here’s to the new normal.