Last night – near my cutoff for eating (I only eat between 2 and 6) it dawned on me that I am not a meal eater as much as an ingredient eater. Case in point: I had some olives. Then some artichoke hearts. Then some arugula. All separate dishes. Most people would probably have put them together in a salad.
When I was a little girl I was never fussy about food touching. I didn’t squeal (as only a little girl can squeal) if my peas touched my mashed potatoes. Not that we had peas and mashed potatoes all that often. My mother was an adventurous cook and I was exposed to a lot of dishes at a young age. The only thing I can remember detesting with the fire of a thousand suns was tomato aspic. Oh, and add one more: stewed okra. Shudder.
I came to another food revelation yesterday. I serve only to feed the Flashster. I have no other purpose in this world but to be the Keeper of the Kibble. I am his majesty’s food purveyor.
Flash is getting a little huffy in his diet. He sits in front of the refrigerator occasionally and gives me a look that can only be interpreted as commanding. “Thou shalt dish up some salad in my bowl, My Karen.” I ignore him.
I wonder who’s suffering from his diet more, him or me. When I eat anything, I have to keep my gaze almost at ceiling level to avoid the long suffering, “I’m starving” look I get.
I don’t know if he’s lost any weight yet. He has a grooming appointment on May 22, so he’ll be weighed then. I do a body check every morning to see if I can feel ribs yet. I think he’s lost weight but, then, I thought he lost weight when he gained a pound. I caught him licking the floor the other day, which was both an indictment of my food prep skills and a slam about my housekeeping. Silly dog.
How about you? Are there any foods you remember hating from your childhood? Do you eat ingredients or whole meals? And does your pet act like you only exist to feed him?