Real Cost of Food

An egg is an egg. Except, when it's not.

Fresh the movie.

Juicing the Yogurt

Image: liquid that forms on the top of the yogurt.

It almost makes me not want to dive beneath the swampy container surface.  I still do, but it takes some convincing.

Convincing that my eating yogurt is a favor to my body.  It should be grateful.  I could be sucking down a Jucy Lucy from Matt's Bar.  While delicious, it has the potential to stop a heart on cheese imploding impact.

Sure it doesn't want to touch the soupy, milk colored water.  But it's yogurt.  It's healthy.  Healthy food isn't supposed to be appetizing.

Is it?

Slow Food

Aly and I are becoming more self-aware of what we put in our bodies. Not necessarily turning vegan, vegetarian or a combination of the two, but attempting to realize the process of where our food actually comes from.

I think this idea fits with Aly's hobby/passion for cooking and gardening as well as my hobby/passion for eating.

Check out Slow Food USA a cool grassroots movement for good, environmentally sound, worldwide food.

A Tombstone

I never save left-over frozen pizza to eat the next day.

Out of the oven, it tastes just good enough to eat. Why force something down a second time and belabor the point?

Me, Men, Meat

Aly has been in New York on photo shoot for the past two weeks, with one additional week to go.

At home it's me. And Otis. And Emerson.

Just three dudes, with little to no survival instincts past drinking liquid directly from its holding container.

Two pieces of chicken composed dinner Tuesday. Yesterday, I had a steak for dinner and applauded my forethought by cooking an extra which I ate for lunch today. After drinking two beers and eating an entire pork loin this evening, I decided the following:

You are a male living alone when the only thing you eat for a meal is meat.

No side dishes. No salad. Just a piece of meat with a cold, accompanying sauce.

I've never felt bad about fixing myself strictly meat for a meal. Truth be told, I like it. Tastes great. Less food to coordinate and prepare. Less cleanup.

The warm/fuzzy feeling must be one of private.  When I was at the office today heating up my steak for lunch to accompany my coffee (yes, steak and coffee - I realize this is a habit of a very old man) I had a pinge of embarrassment for heating up just a piece of meat.

"What are you having?" the nosy lunch co-worker asked.

"Um.  Steak." I timidly replied.

"Really?  Just meat?" she prodded.

Why do you care, ran through my head, but instead, "Yeah, left-0vers." was the excuse.  She had no idea that I was lying to her face.

The night before, I cooked with the pre-meditation of only eating meat for lunch.

"At least you'll get your iron." she offered.

"More than you know." I replied.

Un-Wonderbread

I'm picky about my bread.

Blame, as I see it, is placed on WAY too many Miracle Whip and bologna sandwiches as a kid.

Side note: Mom, hogs toes and fake mayo sandies are not, have never been nor ever will be, healthy, no matter how far you stretch the imagination.

What drives me away is the consistency that Miracle Whip turns bread.  I'm convinced there is some sort of chemical interaction that happens where the Miracle Whip simply overpowers flour to turn it to a yeasty paste.

The trouble, as I see it, is the middle of the sandwich.  As I explain:

Sandwich eating enjoyment can be plotted on a bell curve.

Imagine the X axis is a constant stream of sandwich enjoyment.  Each end of the bell curve spectrum, (-5, 5), represents the start and finish of one, unique, sandwich meal.

Plotted lines close the X axis represent a positive experience, while those further away show a plausible concern with the user's sandwich interaction.

Natural eating progression of a bologna and Miracle Whip sandwich starts at the crusty edge (-5) leads to the middle (0) and finishes with the opposing crusty edge (5).

Bread crust always gets a bad rap.

However, in this case I argue, pitting a bristly crust against an abrasive substance actually elevates the user's sandwich interaction (represented by a flat line on either end of graph A above).

The density-to-taste balance on the edges of the sandwich make that portion of the experience remarkable.

Now, as you approach the middle, Miracle Whip has two factors working in it's corrosive favor:

1. By the porous nature of bread, the weakest portion, in terms of penetration, is the middle of the sandwich

2. Due to typical* sandwich enjoyment, Miracle Whip is allotted more time to absorb and weaken the middle of the sandwich, as compared to the outside 

crust

As you approach the portion of the sandwich where the Miracle Whip is most dense, you are most anxious.  The pinnacle of your meal, so you think.

A bite from the heart of the fermented dough dispenses a glue like paste to the roof of your mouth.

Your concerns level grows, as charted above, as you first realize what is happening.  As your tongue engages to clear your palate and fails to jettison the lodged residue, an unsuitable experience spikes.

You are forced to enlist the help of your fingers to clear the emulsion.  The peak of your negative enjoyment - and the reason for my bread aversion.

*"Typical" assumes the sandwich is eaten as a solitary item and not sliced into pieces, i.e. diagonal cut, party squares, halfsies