Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Food Porn

I am so lonely and so bored without a job. I've done the housework, begrudgingly, but now we can eat off of clean plates and sleep on clean sheets. Huzzah for civilized living. 

Lately I find myself shopping at Big City Chick, oh sorry, City Chick, which is a well...a store for us ladies who stuffed in that last slice of cake. So while I can't cram myself into an 18 or barely a 20 at Jean's West, I can happily meander across the street to City Chick and hop into a slick fitting pair of jeans in their size 16. It feels like cheating at life, the numbers really mean nothing but the elation of staring doubtfully/defiantly at a 16 and then fitting a 16 feels like the euphoria of eating that cake slice that got me there.

Watching alot of Bourdain, reading food blogs, and watching alot of cooking with dog has led me to the conclusion that food has become my new porn. I watch these shows and suddenly I feel I am an expert chef, I can do anything, I can make a souffl√©, I could totally do up some dumplings. So I waddle myself into the kitchen, hitch up my new size 16s and I make..popcorn. I figure what the fuck is popcorn anyways? It's like little magical fluffy kernels, it can't possibly have any calories in it. Here is where I apply my life long (23 year long) lesson folks:EVERYTHING TASTES BETTER WITH SEASONING SALT.

Bourdain would be ashamed. I know he professes the street food and simple foods love and all but I'm sure he'd ask for more vodka before even dreaming of taking a mouthful. I feel ashamed, for since food has become like porn for me this would be the equivalent in satisfaction of getting off while flicking through the preview pages of those "CREDIT CARD NOW, $15 FOR 3 MONTHS!" websites.

Speaking of Bourdain I think he's brilliant. I mean, I read Kitchen Confidential, the man must be brilliant since he can still even articulate a sentence after everything he shoved in his veins, etc, in the 80's. In my eyes he's lucky he's hasn't developed a tremble or speaks incoherently like a certain Prince of darkness we all know. I recently told one of my friends at a party my feelings for the man and he happened to have his laptop ready and available. Google is such amazing thing, within seconds I heard, "Ugh, seriously? You have got to have better tastes than that? He's like a fried dinosaur!" Awww, but come on, beauty is on the inside, right next to his smoker's lungs. 
"What the hell did I just read?"




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