I have an addiction problem, I think; I easily get hooked on things, be they hobbies (check out how much I blogged when I first started), booze, cigarettes, prescription drugs, people, the internet. The one that's niggling at me at the moment is crap food. I love it.
If it's never seen anything green, I'll eat it. Salty snacks, salty spicy snacks, takeaway food, even Subway sandwiches: I can eat them until they come out of my nose.
I have a constant hankering after burritos. But in a toss up with hot and sour soup and salt and pepper spare ribs, I'm not sure which I'd choose. And then there are nachos, with all that lovely salsa and the jalapeños and the cheese and refried beans. Who wouldn't like that? An idiot, that's who.
My current agenda for indulgence in crap includes sourcing a hotdog very soon. A foot long hot dog with onions, mustard and ketchup. Such a heavenly combination of reclaimed pig and fat and relish, it's never far away from my thoughts.
Since having an excellent burrito in Las Vegas - oh, I'm so cosmopolitan - last time I went - I've been more than once, even more cosmopolitan - I have a yearning for the spicy Mexican snack on at least a weekly basis. The flavours and textures of beef, beans rice and chilli dance in your mouth while the heat courses through from the first interactions with tastebuds right to the tips of the toes.
Yes, a lovely mixed green salad with avocado, fine olive oil and a dash of lemon juice is divine, the combination of seasonal beef tomatoes with mild salad onions and herbs accompanying grilled sardines can make my heart sing, but it's the crap that really satisfies.
My parents are to blame of course, Mother in particular. We ate proper meals as we grew up and "crap tea" was so rare that Mum never really got the hang of it. Despite her being an excellent cook who provided us with delicious meals from around the world, she couldn't do crap tea: her chips were a disaster (fat not hot enough) and her sausages were bland, so when the rare opportunity arose for proper chippy tea, it was such an experience that always left me wanting more. The cooking fat was at the perfect temperature, the chips heavenly and if curry sauce or gravy was included, it made me the happiest kid alive.
Maybe I'm no different that most people in that I like a treat occasionally. I rarely act on my desire for pizza, chips, kebabs, hotdogs, burritos, curry, hot and sour soup for fuck's sake, but my mind has been trained to always hanker after these things instead of well, what are their polar opposites:
- Vegetables - boring, just totally boring to the point of them being not food
- Brown rice - Jesus wept, this is a punishment, not a food
- Edamame beans - can't even pronounce the bloody word
- Soya - ick
- Skinless chicken - just what's the point? Really??
Anyway (:@) I'm supposed to be going for a burrito tomorrow. I'd love to prepare nachos for tea, but a whole portion is too much even for me.
And that's the thing about being alone, it's difficult to find the motivation to prepare a load of nachos, let alone cook a proper meal. But I'm getting there, always hopeful of a summer that will put me in the mood for that green salad and those sardines. In the meantime though, I'll keep on dreaming of, and resisting, the crap - apart from tomorrow of course.
Exercise
I returned to the gym last night. I'd already decided on a gently reintroduction since my lungs are a bit shit at the moment and all that. I didn't bank on my session being cut short by an unruly contact lens that left me with the sensation of having a pin stuck in my eyeball. Is it just me?
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