Recently I’ve noticed a foodie explosion amongst my friends. They use words like ‘phenomenal’ when describing a chocolate pudding…sorry…fondant, and argue over the finer points of who has the better extra virgin olive oil. While it seems that their foodiness is limited to contemporary Australian with the occasional grand adventure into Japanese, Thai if they’re feeling edgy (but never Chinese), I must admit, I have a confession to make.
I love food. I’m not a foodie. I love the wagyu burger at Rockpool. I love a Hungry Jacks whopper junior with cheese with its mix of mayo and tomato sauce falling out of my hands. I love Macca’s fries (when hot, fresh, and salty), and I equally love the polenta chips at Bloodwood. Yes I’ve eaten that snow egg. But I can eat a bag of assorted filled easter eggs from Woollies too. And I love Chinese food. And Vietnamese food. And Nepalese food. And Indian food. In fact if it’s from a country I haven’t heard of, I’ll love it more. One of the first things I ask someone from another culture is 1) what do you eat, and 2) can I have the recipe? I have friends who stay away from ethnic suburb because they’re afraid of violence. I will spend forty minutes on the train getting to said suburb in pursuit of it’s glorious street-food authenticity. Forget growing the ingredients on the roof. Forget blah-blah sourced from blah-blah and aged in a cave. I appreciate all food for what it is – whether it’s fine dining or fast food, they all have their place.
And everything must be in it’s place. For most of my life I’ve eaten fairly indiscriminately, making up large batches of cookies and eating most of them or ordering pizza whenever I felt like it. In short, I had no system for eating and it takes it’s toll. In spite of being 20kg lighter than I was 10 years ago, I still have a daily battle with myself over what and what not to eat. There’s almost a sense of missing out and maybe I’ll never get it again involved with certain foods. So I thought I’d make a time and a place for all the foods I love, so that I have permission when the time comes, and I’ll never miss out.
My rules for eating whatever I want:
- Day-to-day: I eat from the earth. Fish, brown rice, vegetables, rice noodles, yoghurt, fruit. Think Mediterranean food pyramid
- Out to dinner: Free reign to order whatever I want! Forget the token salad to ‘trying and be healthy’
- Bakery treats are for sharing! I’m only baking if it’s for a group of people.
- Chips/lollies/chocolate: Easter, Christmas, birthdays…and night shift.
- Pancakes/big breakfasts: Birthdays, night shift, and weeks where I’m working 6/7 days.
- Pizza: For times of utter, utter acopia.
- Alcohol – not so much of an issue, I hardly drink. But when out, no more than 2-3 drinks max.
I wish I could exercise portion control and eat this stuff whenever I liked, but put a block of chocolate, a bag of chips or a packet of biscuits in my pantry and they are gone in 3 hours. I don’t want that for myself. I don’t buy that stuff anyway but this is even more impetus not to.