I've been eating like shit lately. Well, not always shit, but pretty commonly like shit. And when it's not shit, it's at the very least strange. But this is normal for end of semester eats -- I run out of food, run out of time, run out of the energy to make grocery store runs. And just like that, whap! Amazing Cheastypants the Gourmand, the Connoisseur of Fine Dining (well, in my dreams, anyway) becomes Amazing Cheastypants the Scavenger, the Eater of Moldy Leftovers, and the Scrounger for Edible Eats. I remember one time in my sophomore year of college sitting in my dorm room alternating spoonfuls of Jif Crunchy Peanut Butter and a repulsive re-hydrated soup called Cha-Cha-Chile, cause it was all I had left in my fridge and my last final exam was the next day. That was a low point.
It hasn't gotten that bad in a long time, but end-of-semester eating is always an adventure. Last night, for example, Penata and I (who are at right about the same place regarding food, time, and the will to go shopping) tried to make a square meal out of the sad remnants of our combined cupboards and crispers.
"What are you eating for dinner, Cheasty?"
"I don't know. I've got some brown rice, and some broccoli that will go bad if I don't eat it tonight. What about you?"
"Um, I have some peanuts."
"Well, that's protein."
Her voice is somewhat muffled, coming from inside the refrigerator, but she burbles about something, and pops out smiling with a shiny red apple.
"Hey! I've got fruit!"
So that's what we ate: a stir-fry of broccoli, rice, apples, peanuts, and balsamic vinegar. Don't tell, but it was really sort of tasty. Tonight was pizza - our specialty, pepperoni and pineapple - which is always tasty, but come on. I could do better than that.
At times like this I like to fantasize about my favorite meals, to dream about what I would eat if I could eat anything, and tonight, this is what's on my mind. I went to Italy last year, and while traveling in Napoli I met a cute Brazilian guy (woo-woo!) and we ate the hell out of that place. One of the most memorable meals we shared was on the patio of a waterfront restaurant with a waiter named Luigi (I mean, come on. Was I in a movie?), boats bobbing peacefully in the harbor by our side, a warm sea breeze, a delicious bottle of white wine, and one of the most amazing octopus salads I've ever had. I took a picture, and I still go back to look at it whenever I want to remember that wonderful wonderful WONDERFUL Brazili--- er, meal.