The Naked Truth

Lest you start to think that I was born into some whimsical, earthy family that shopped at health-food stores and let the children have sips of wine each night with dinner (heaven-forbid!) might I remind you of what was discussed in my first post.....that this relationship I've established with food has been a journey... read:  cheeze puffs and corn dogs came before hummus and lentil burgers.  
      Growing up, our family ate simple, standard food.  There was the ever-present meatloaf and the traditional mac n' cheese (with a can of tuna and a bag of peas thrown in for good measure.)  In our house, mom got "exotic" in the kitchen about once a week when she made salmon patties (which my sister and I nick-named Sandi Patties, after the popular contemporary Christian artist of the same name.....we thought we were hi-lar-i-ous) with a side of green beans.  
     When I left home for college, the dining hall took over for mom and that was fine by me.  Ours served the usual fare... chicken and rice, beef and broccoli, and of course, PASTA.  Lots and lots of PASTA.  All made from processed, white flour and all ensuring that I'd soon meet the enemy of every freshman girl ever to step foot on a college campus:  the Freshman Fifteen!  Ack!  I shudder at the mere mention of it.  (Looking back, though the carb count of that pasty, pale, penne was probably through the roof, I'm guessing it helped on weekends to soak up the, um, large amounts of alcohol that myself and all of my lovely friends tended to consume.  I'm not advocating this behavior, mind you, I'm just sayin'.)  
      A couple of years later I married the man that made my heart skip a beat.  (He was also the person who introduced me to green tea, chicco-sticks, and Asian kung-fu movies with bad sub-titles...but we'll save that for another post.)  He had also lived on his own for a few years (I was still in the dorms) and knew a thing or two about cooking. And when I use the work "cooking" here, I use it very, very loosely.  He made (and still makes) a mean chili and could whip up a pot of spaghetti in no time, too.  I remember one of our very first grocery shopping trips together.  We were at the Biggs on Colerain Ave. in Cincinnati, OH (which is gone now, btw. I went to their blow-out store-closing sale this past summer and saved a boatload on some really excellent red wine.  My, how times have changed.) and I do believe we spent most of our time in the frozen foods section.  My new husband promptly found his favorite brand of extra spicy, extra crispy fried chicken and loaded our cart with quite a few boxes of the stuff.  Fine by me, I thought.  
     Later that night I remember how incredibly proud I was of the delightful meal I had prepared for my beloved from our shopping adventure.  Spicy fried chicken (straight from the freezer), yellow corn with loads of butter (right out of the can), and mashed potatoes (right out of the, um, box.)
     Yes, it hurts me to say that last bit about the instant potatoes, but it's the truth.  And it's part of my food adventure.  And it was ok for us at the time.  Heck, at least it wasn't ramen.  And if I just described the dinner you just ate, well, that's ok too.  You might consider to just take a moment and think about how that food makes you feel and what, if anything, you'd like to change about that. Sometimes our food habits keep us from recognizing that there's more out there beyond our own little cupboards.