Grocery Warning

I generally am not the biggest fan of grocery shopping. Something about spending all that money on something that will be gone in a week seems wrong to me. It doesn't hep that being car-less city dwellers, we have to walk a decent distance to the store and back, hauling our loot over our shoulders like barbarians bringing a deer back from a hunt. Uphill (both ways, of course).

However, today, for once, I was in a lovely mood. It was one of those perfect days where the sky is bright blue, with the just the right amount of big, fluffy clouds floating on by. Warm, but not too warm, with a happy breeze singing on by. So nice that we detoured through some of the lovely old neighborhoods near by and oohed and awwed at all the gorgeous homes. Everything was wonderful.

You know how they warn against grocery shopping when you're hungry? They should also warn against shopping when you're happy. Everything was wonderful, sure. That also meant that everything in the store looked wonderful. And while my common sense can occasionally restrain me from throwing a wonderful pain of shoes into my bag, apparently food doesn't trigger my waste warning system. After all, food is a necessity of life, right? Well, food might be, but jars of fancy mustard that were on sale or a giant flat of strawberries that two people can not possibly get through aren't exactly necessities. And that's how we spent almost twice the normal amount at the grocery store this week. I'll be the girl living on strawberries and mustard for the next week or so (hopefully not at the same time).

Law School wants me to live on fro yo

Oh dear. I'm not sure how long it's been there, but last week I found that the law school cafeteria has a frozen yogurt machine and a giant container of rainbow sprinkles. This is not a good discovery to make right as finals kick in, resulting in me both being on campus more frequently and lacking any and all motivation to pack a healthy lunch (because I did that so much before...). In the past week I've gone up there three times, fully intending to walk away with a salad, and instead slinking back to my carrel with a bowl full of sugary (but non-fat!) goodness.

It really doesn't help that the cafeteria is well, special. They try so hard to be more than just a basic cafeteria. In theory this is a good thing. In theory lemon herb salmon or sweet mesquite pork sound gorgeously gourmet. In reality I wish for some basic fish sticks. Fancy food just does not translate well to being made en masse and set out under heat lamps. Everything ends up rubbery and just wrong somehow. The salad bar isn't that bad, but come on. You can only eat so much salad. And the salad is way more expensive than the yogurt. Plus, no sprinkles.

And that is why for the next couple of weeks about 1/3 of my nutrition is coming from cheap, easily accessible, fro yo. And sprinkles, of course.

(Taken with my mediocre web cam. After I ate about half of it. Also, note the lone piece of cantaloupe, trying to give the meal an air of nutritional credibility.)

Manly meals (why does my pizza have a gender?)

When our pizza was served last night (why yes, I am stretching one event out into two blog posts), the server set down a fresh basil, mushroom, tomato onion pizza in front of me, and a rich pepperoni, sausage, kalamata olive one in front of Zach. Which would be fine, except that I'm the carnivore, and Zach is the one who understands that vegetables have a role outside of salads.

This happens almost every time we go out to eat. I have the manliest, meatiest thing imaginable, while Zach has something light and lovely. I dig into a juicy T-bone, he nibbles at a Caesar salad. Every time we are automatically served the other persons meal, every time we switch plates, and every time I get a little raised eyebrow or a smirk tossed in my direction.

I usually blush a little, or mumble something about feeling extra hungry that night. Like I'm embarrassed by or need to apologize for eating what I want or for not eating healthy. (Although come on, it's a pizza. The veggies aren't going to save it.) 

Am I crazy to think that this is a gendered thing? Most people don't look twice at a man eating a meat lovers special, but it's weird for a woman to, or for a man to chow down on a good salad. It's just food, isn't that kind of a stupid thing to be gendered? Is it because meat helps build big, scary muscles? Is being fat so scary and horrible for women (who of course must remain at sex-kitten perfection)that a less than healthy meal is taboo? Is red meat some sort of gateway drug for double x-chromosomes?

This isn't just a date night observation. I've been out with women and gone through the obligatory round of apologies and how I'm being so bad before ordering something a little more than dainty. It's kind of a weird, awkward ritual of policing food norms and assuring everyone that the hamburger is just a rare deviation from a life of dressing on the side.

I'm tired for feeling bad about food or going through exaggerated play acting to pretend like I feel bad. Here's my not-so dirty little secret: I like food, and I don't always feel guilty or naughty about it. I like meat and fat and cheese and deep fried things. They taste really good - moans and bedroom noises good. Sure, I don't eat like that all or even most of the time. I have no magic metabolism, and I put forth a decent amount of effort to keep my jeans zipping up over my already generous thighs and rolled stomach. Tonight I dinned on a very reasonable salad and grilled chicken breast with strawberries for dessert. That's the norm. I know that a delicious yet healthy recipe is worth its weight in gold.

But if I'm going to spend the time and money to go out, you better believe I'm going to get something because it will make my mouth happy. Next time I'm going to look at the server with a great big smile and no apologies as I reach for my plate.

The Return of 2 Amys

We first came to DC straight from our Oregon Coast honeymoon on a red eye flight. After 16+ hours on planes and in airports we finally managed to guide our cab driver to our previously unseen apartment complex. One excruciating hour of paperwork latter, we finally received the keys to our entirely empty apartment, and more importantly, its promise of sleep. Before collapsing into unconsciousness we managed to muster the energy to fish out the air mattress from our luggage and inflate it.

At about 4pm we finally stirred awake to an apartment devoid of anything except us, a few pieces of luggage, and the echos of our giant angry stomach growls. A quick Google search using pirated internet later and we found our way to a nearby pizza place, thinking that pizza would be the perfect, basic food for tired travelers craving a nice, normal meal.

Ha. 2 Amys was our first introduction to the fact that our corner of DC doesn't just do normal food. 2 Amys is a certified authentic Neopolitan pizzeria. It uses authentic ingredients, wood burning stoves, the whole deal.

In our exhausted, starving state it almost seemed cruel to have to decipher a menu using Italian words like rapini and cockles when we were expecting nothing more exotic than Hawaiian. We each ordered the item that we could best understand, and hoped for the best.

The first sighting of mana couldn't have looked as good as those hot, cheesy disks did descending on our table. After the first taste that none of the prior confusion mattered. We wanted to scarf the whole thing down in one gulp, but not savoring such deliciousness would have been a crime. It tasted amazing, the way food only can when you haven't eaten for almost a day. Their crust was thin and flaky, with little crispy black bits from the wood stove. The toppings were rich and flavorful, the mozzarella obviously fresh and creamy. It was perfection.

We didn't go back for a while, largely because I thought that there was no way it could actually have been as good as my feverishly starving mind had first experienced it. I was wrong. The second time, it was almost better.

It's still one of our favorite places to go out to eat. Even with 40 minute average waits to get in and a loud and crowded dining room, it's well worth it for that delicious pizza. When the weather gets warm, there is nothing better than waiting outside in the sunshine, chatting, people watching and eagerly anticipating that first bite.

We don't go out that often during the winter (it's such a pain to go anywhere in bad weather without a car), and even when we do, it doesn't always work out. With the return of Spring, I hope we can give date night a comeback, and I couldn't think of any place better to get things going again than 2 Amys. I was right, after the first bite tonight, it felt like falling in love all over again.

Craving Cycle

 My diet is largely ruled by cravings. Usually this isn't too bad, most cravings are merely a general desire for either sweet or savory and it isn't to hard to find something not entirely horrible to fill that void.

However, from time to time, I enter a craving cycle. It begins with one particular food taking over my mouth and ruthlessly beating back any other desires. For as long as the craving lacks, I just want to shovel that sweet goodness into my mouth non-stop, at every meal. Everything else tastes bland at best and forcing myself to eat it is a chore. 

Right now, eggs are my food of choice. I continuously crave them. And with the versatility of eggs, its not nearly as monotonous as past cravings. Fried, scrambled, hard boiled, egg salad, faux mcmuffins, egg sandwiches, quiche and oh so much else, there is nothing they can't do.

The only problem is that the second stage of the cycle causes whatever food I binge on to become the most disgusting thing imaginable. It's like I've eaten my years supply of that food in the space of a week, and my body will not tolerate anymore until the quota as been reset, thus ending the cycle. I really don't want this to happen to eggs.

I like eggs, even before they attacked, they were one of my favorite food. They're delicious, easy and cheap, what's not to like? Gagging at the very thought of them for several months is not appealing. So, I'm trying to break the cycle by rationing down to one egg based meal every 48 hours. I'm not sure I can make it. I'm trying to cook some of my favorites, but all I want is eggs. It's going to be a long week.