Food Challenge Day 3

Day 3

In sickness and in health.

Allergies. Spring has sprung and with it comes all its symptoms.  Sneezing, wheezing, coughing, runny nose, eyes swollen shut (Insert Asian joke here) all appear magically as if to spite those of us wretched souls with an overactive immune system. As if our genetic flaw is so heinous that we should not be able to enjoy the flowers under the shining sun.

Allergies are the reason why I hate flowers. The banks where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, with sweet musk roses can pretty much all burn and Titania along with them.

Rant aside, the reason allergies start off this post is allergies, or any sort of sickness makes it increasingly difficult to live off a food stamp budget. Being sick sucks! (No shit Sherlock) Having to cook all your items from scratch to stretch a dollar while being sick because you can’t afford delivery is miserable.

I can only imagine how worse this would be if I had an actual sickness like the flu. You need to eat to get better despite not having any sort of appetite. In that situation it’s much easier to order a gallon of Wonton soup and dumplings to chow down in bed. Throw taking care of meals for an entire family into the mix and you have a truly bleak situation.

Not so Happy Hour

I touched upon the difficulty of social interactions in yesterday’s post and tonight exemplified the struggle. I went to happy hour with a few friends to watch the basketball games and it was a miserable experience. Sure I loved the company having Duke and Georgetown lose is never a bad thing, but watching my friends drink while I sat there taking up valuable real estate at the bar sipping water was an unpleasant experience. It was truly difficult when my friends would offer to buy me beers or food and I had to refuse. I hadn’t eaten dinner at that point so it became a special type of torture. Eventually I had to excuse myself because I didn’t think I would be able to stick to the challenge. (I’m weak and I lack discipline) This coupled with the lack of comprehension in my friends eyes every time I refused a beer quickly reduced my normally cheerful and sunny disposition.

I came home famished and realized I had no pasta dough prepared. EPIC FUCKING FAIL. Being stressed and depressed after the happy hour I decided to work my frustration out cooking. It did help but knowing I didn’t have all the ingredients I wanted did not improve my mood. I did manage to come up with a decent dish that at minimum satisfied my hunger.

Yes. This is how far I’ve fallen. I’ve betrayed the Goddess of flavor and have been praying to the patron saint of satiety. It would be overly dramatic to say a little part of me died with this confession.I was right, it was overly dramatic. Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.

Using the pulled chicken and stock/chicken water from yesterday I made ravioli stuffed with chicken and peas with white gravy. It was… underwhelming. I would have done some terrible, terrible things for some herbs and butter.

Butter, butter, butter. Butter is love, butter is flavor, butter is good. Making a roux with olive oil instead of butter for the gravy betrayed everything I was taught or believed in but necessity is a cruel mistress.

Another component in my food I miss dearly is texture. The pasta is soft, peas are soft, eggs are soft. Everything I eat is soft as well as bland and it makes me miss crunch. I may fry up some of the veggies or beans tomorrow and see if it can fill the void but I am not optimistic.

Slowly I’m beginning to realize that this challenge is not about hunger. Hunger can be managed; it can be controlled or shifted from mind. However, the social and mental consequences are not so easily dealt with, even if you’re used to it. Ultimately, there is a profound difference between hunger from self-induced restriction and hunger from the inability to fulfill a need.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post.