Food and I have had a tumultuous relationship throughout my life. Sometimes it was my only comfort; other times, my greatest enemy. Now, it is a source of pleasure. It is sustenance.
Recently, my sisters and I visited my mom. She made my favorite meal: macaroni and meatballs. This is my everything meal. This was the food of childhood Sunday suppers after church. It is still the food of family and togetherness. We ate around the table on the fancy plates.
Best. Meal. Ever.
We also drank watermelon cocktails (clearly not in the fancy glasses).
I’ve needed connection and fun. I ate at a ramen shop with a friend, where we feasted on pork belly buns and noodles. (Ramen and mazemen not pictured. Too busy slurping and laughing.)
Then, there’s pizza. Always pizza.
Pizza at my mom’s house, accompanied by pink moscato and some much needed quiet writing time.
Heat and eat pizza with creamy goat cheese and roasted red peppers.
The perfect pizza for vegging out in front of the television.
An amazing Sicilian slice with plenty of meatballs. Chewy, crispy, cheesy, crunchy.
I am obsessed with iced coffee. Life fuel.
Creamy cold brew.
Nitro cold brew.
…Definitely NOT cold brew.
Let’s not forget hot coffee. Sometimes, just getting out of the house and grabbing a hot coffee will get the words flowing again. (My new favorite mini notebook doesn’t hurt, either.)
I had been craving a good lox platter and, finally, after weeks of denying myself, I just said, fuck it. Had a date with myself and enjoyed every single bite. I mean, just look at this beauty.
LOOK AT IT.
I needed to go for a walk the other day and ended up sampling food truck tacos. Cauliflower and chickpea tacos were delicious, but black bean and quinoa with homemade ranch sauce were transcendent. Sometimes, I can’t contain all the largeness inside. Everything seems so big and uncontrollable, but then I sit and eat and think and write, and the worlds–inner and outer–don’t seem so strange and overwhelming anymore.
What have you eaten today?