Thursday, August 29, 2013

Food.

Food made by other people is delicious. And by "other people" I mean people paid to cook delicious food.  I have a handful of go-to recipes floating around my kitchen, and one favorite that's actually committed to memory.  But there's just something about being served a piping hot plate of seafood chimichangas after a long day at work...


I've always been a girl who likes to eat.  I do it for all the right reasons (and some of the wrong ones).  Some of my favorite memories started around a dinner table.  I've gotten closer to people over baskets of fried pickles.  I've come to harsh realizations over spaghetti.  One of my most memorable phone calls came during a dinner of bison burgers.  There's something disarming about breaking bread with family and good friends.  You're all in it together. One goal: Enjoy.  It's just that simple.



For all the good times involving grub, there are a few bad ones too.  If I had to define the relationship, I'd say "it's complicated."

I had a very tumultuous time with frozen pizza when I was a child.  I will spare you the dirty details. Suffice it to say, dinner and I did not get along this one time.  We stayed separated for a long time, frozen pizza and I.  Even months after our big breakup, I went to a slumber party where my ex was the main course.  I politely asked my friend's mother for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead.  It was embarrassing, but I just wasn't ready to make up yet.  Ah, young love.

I developed a new appreciation for food when I was a broke college graduate just off the school cafeteria plan.  Mexican restaurants became more than just vessels for margaritas when I realized I could fill up on chips and salsa... you guessed it... for free!

Thankfully those days are behind me.  Pizza and I have reconciled, and Mexican restaurants can breathe a collective sigh of relief:  I'm no longer just in it for the freebies.