Thursday, October 29, 2009

Writing My Own Food Porn


The other day, The Tyra Banks Show tweeted, Do you folks have any “BFF’s: Best Food Frenemies”?!

This made me think, Oh, sweet fancy cupcakes, yes.

I have never met a fat-filled dish I didn’t like. I try to eat healthy, but I’ll never enjoy it; I’m fine with health nuts as long as they’re honest. Go ahead and eat tofu noodles if you’re cutting out carbs, but if I hear you say it’s just as good as spaghetti I will slap you in the face. Shun cheese if you’re a vegan, but otherwise what is wrong with you???

To me, there is nothing more depressing to me than those pictures in Shape magazine of pale, pasty baked chicken breasts posed alongside a cupful of steamed vegetables that are supposed to be the picture of a healthy meal. It’s the opposite of food porn; my taste buds recoil and I frantically search the plate for signs of hidden cheese, or the faintest glimmer of oil. I sometimes eat these kinds of meals when I’m feeling self-punitive. I realize that they are, in truth, healthy, but there’s no pleasure in them. I am strictly a food for pleasure, not food for fuel, kind of girl.

Jeff, on the other hand, claims that he would not eat if he didn’t have to. Believe me, I grappled with this for years—it came very close to being a dealbreaker. He hates sauce of any kind. He doesn’t like pasta. He will only eat fish under duress. He doesn’t like cheese, unless it’s an anemic slice of provolone in a sandwich. Jeff’s ideal diet would consist of white bread, meats, potatoes, and the occasional cooked carrot or simple salad. Luckily, the saving grace is that Jeff loves sweets. He’ll pig out on sundaes and candy and pie. Thank God. Otherwise I might go insane.

I wish I could say that I eat whatever I want all the time, but A) I’m a woman living in present-day America and B) I do want to protect my heart and keep my genetically high cholesterol at a reasonable number. I eat bad food sometimes, but not nearly as much as I’d like to. But I crave it, oh how I crave it. If I had a day to eat anything I wanted without any physical ramifications, kind of like in Defending Your Life's Judgment City, I would stuff my face with the following:

Nachos. With everything. Suspect-looking ground beef, black beans, gobs of sour cream and guac, melted cheese, jalapenos... I like the chips to take on a mushy, wilted consistency so that I can basically eat nachos with a spoon.

Tater Tots. Crispy and golden brown, drowning in ketchup. I used to be so jealous when the school lunch included Tater Tots and I was stuck with my sad whole-wheat peanut butter (no jelly) sandwich that no one wanted to trade for.

Rice Krispies Treats. Not the kind they sell at bodegas; the kind you make from scratch that taste like real butter and stick to your fingers. I can’t make these anymore because I just start eating from the pan before they cool and then I get a crazy sugar high and start reorganizing my closet.

Pasta. I love pasta so fucking much. If I had to cut out carbs I would seriously consider suicide, and I would kill myself WITH PASTA. Giant bowls of linguine with clam sauce, tortellini with pesto sauce and parmesan cheese, penne a la vodka, orrechiete with sausage and cream, spaghetto carbonara, baked ziti, rigatoni Bolognese, oozing lasagnas piled with veggies... now I’m just tormenting myself.

Indian food, specifically rich, creamy chicken tikka masala into which I dip chunks of soft, warm naan. Rice? Fuck rice.

Sushi, specifically spicy salmon rolls liberally topped with that heavenly spicy mayonnaise that negates the healthfulness of the fish.

Everything bagels, the crispy-on-the-outside, chewy-on-the-inside kind, perfect New York kind, slathered with full-fat cream cheese and topped with a thin slice of lox.

An artery-clogging cheese plate—triple crème L’Explorateur, creamy goat cheese with truffles, nutty manchego, smoked gouda and extra-sharp cheddar—served with slices of crusty French bread.

Frosted strawberry Pop Tarts, toasted to slightly burned ooziness, served with a tall glass of cold milk (full fat).

UPDATE: HAHAHAHA. I finally clicked on the Tyra Show’s link and they meant friends who tempt you to eat more, not frenemies actually MADE OF FOOD.

Whatever, Tyra. Me and Nachos don’t need you anyway.
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4 comments :

  1. have you ever had Totchos? They are nachos with tots INSTEAD of chips.

    Just thinking about them makes me drool a bit. Best nasty pub food ever.

    Mmmmmm.....cheese.

    ReplyDelete
  2. OMG. The other day I had Irish Nachos. What is that? you are probably asking, because I had no idea either.

    Wait for it.

    They have all the same toppings as regular nachos, but the tortilla chips are replaced with...

    WAFFLE FRIES.

    Oh yeah, they were the shit.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Suck it tofu, this post is my god now!

    ReplyDelete
  4. I agree with every word of this post, especially the chicken tikka masala/fuck rice. And spicy salmon/tuna mayo. And bagels. And cheese.

    I will add to that salt and vinegar potato chips (kettle cooked pls), steak and bearnaise sauce, eggs benedict, and ice cream. Any kind of ice cream. Preferably with hot fudge.

    I'm a fattie. :(

    ReplyDelete

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