the foodie reemerges

My relationship with food has changed a lot over the past few months.

In my old life, food was something I had control over. I chose what I and with whom I ate. And the food and company were good. Lots of whole and organic foods lovingly prepared from near-scratch. Food was something that I thought about quite a bit, trying to achieve nutrition and pleasure. Being a good cook and a bit of a foodie were part of my identity & something that I took pride in.

And with a loss of control & money everything has changed. Food is only rarely a source of pleasure. It is most often simply fuel. My lunch is whatever is vegetarian at the soup kitchen: often just bread and fruit. And dinner is whatever my mostly not-so-skilled-in-the-kitchen housemates prepare. Sautéed frozen vegetables in some vaguely curry-esque sauce is a good meal, one I get excited about. Canned vegetable soup, ramen, or still hard in the middle rice are more typical fair.

And it's been really hard. My body feels like it is shutting down. My skin is strange. My digestive tract is messed up. The flu that bowled me over last week is still hanging around. I feel like I had forgotten what good food can be.

But there are signs of hope. F and R sent me a care package containing some delicious bread that I have been rationing myself at breakfast, making sure it lasts until I leave.

I picked up some food for my soup kitchen at a farmers market on Wednesday night. I got apples and mustard greens. After moving the food into our refrigerators, I walked home in the dusk eating spicy mustard greens and a granny smith apple so tart and sweet I couldn't keep my eyes open, remembering that food is good.

And in a week, I'll be living by myself, in charge of my diet again.