Food Obsession. Our country is in the throes of food obsession. From where we’ve gotten it, who produced it, what’s in it, how it’s cooked, saved, presented, traveled, sourced, the quantity and quality, the affordability, the nutritive value, the cruelty inherent in it’s eating, food stands along as one of the most controversial and ceremonially-laden topics of the land. And especially as Americans approach the high holy day of food, Thanksgiving, these food issues multiply, mount and become hopelessly intertwined in the controversies of our day...serving to confound and confuse us. Sometimes we just want to eat. But modern life doesn’t always afford us such easy congress with what we put in our mouths.
I personally have always been consumed as it were with food. First as an overweight kid and then as a fat adult. About two years ago, I decided that my body could no longer support my foodie habits. I abruptly cut out all grains and most starch and began a troubled love affair with vegetables and coffee. To date, I am healthier. The pseudo South-Beach-cum Atkins meal plan worked and I am about 50 lbs lighter. I love this part. I can buy designer skinny jeans on the cheap from trendy second hand shops and easily find something to wear in the morning without having to go through an elaborate body cloaking procedure.
I repeat. I love this part.
But now, as we get deeper into the recession, I realize that the falling away of my eating habits reveals, lays bare certain things that I was unaware of in my former foodie life of addiction. I now see the depths of what I have lost in buying power, must acknowledge that I no longer should have any expectation of promotional opportunities, or improving my earning ability. To wit…now that I don’t eat pizza and popcorn, now that I never partake in the sensual delights that are savory experience of eating a cherry pie, without the pure visceral joy of a freshly baked biscuit dripping with butter and jam, I understand just how much, how bad my situation, and by extension our country’s situation has gotten.
Yes, I still have a job but each day its very existence is called into question, as is the pension that was once a highlight of my public service. Crime is rampant in my city, civic improvement is waning, and community morale is as low as my real estate valuation. I know this isn’t news to anyone but my God, we have lost so much.
But in the early years, when this started happening I managed to feel like I was on an even keel because I was using eating to satisfy my inner, non-nutritive hungers. I ate to forget, to assuage fear, to mark special events, to grease the wheels of social interaction. And let me tell you…while those things are still possible today, they are a lot less possible when your paycheck doesn’t cover what it used to and when the contact high of gluten, starch, and sugar are exposed for what they are --fattening agents and largely ---instruments of satiation.
Without a doubt, these are first world problems. Having food…being able to choose to eat certain types of food over other foods—that’s a luxury a very large portion of the world cannot afford. I get that. I don’t go to bed hungry. Acknowledged. I’m lucky (and the food bank is my main charitable organization, especially during the holidays)Th
Still.
Sometimes, some days like when I’m more fearful over losing my job or when protestors are tagging the building that I’m working in, I just want to eat a jelly donuts with a tall cold glass of full fat milk. It worked to quell the demons when I was a rotund little 12 year old in Allendale, New Jersey. I’m so tempted to see if it works now.
And no amount of new age foodie gambits will be a good substitute for the loss of jelly donuts. No amount of beekeeping or backyard chickens, classes in olive or cheese making will help me to fill the hole. Truth be told, the hole will probably never be filled. I will need to live with that hole. Just like any addict does. That’s a parable of life. Living in spite of the holes we acquire along the way.
In two weeks, I’ll cook a very big meal that will be delicious. It will be cooked with love and enthusiasm. But it won’t fill the hole. And really, I should never have expected it to.
