It’s cold. Today, as I sit in my home office, an unfinsihed room with no heat where I threw some desks and an internet connection, it is 55°F. I’m wearing jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt, thick cotton socks, slippers, and a fleece bathrobe. I am comfortable, save for my fingers, which I could cover with gloves, but that would make typing too difficult.
My continuous trips to the kitchen for cups of coffee keep me moving, and the coffee does a good job of warming, if I don’t let it sit too long (i.e. 4 mintues).
I received an email from a good friend of mine this morning that turned my thoughts to food, as my thoughts are frequently apt to do anyway. With his permission, I’ll share said email with you:
Man, days like this I only want stew or chowder. It’s fall so typically I really only want crock pot food…a thick beef or chicken stew with a biscuit…yeah…
When I eat chowder I like to pretend that I’m a grizzled old fisherman down in the hold of a boat during a cold rain.
When I eat stew it’s more of being in a remote mountain cabin next to a fireplace in a blustery snow.
In the chilly morning mental haze of my mind, my first reaction was “No.”
But then, as the neurons began to warm up the folds of my brain that hadn’t yet thawed out, I realized that yes! Yes there are, and that was really a fun question.
I almost wish I could start this part of the post with “When I was a kid, I used to” but it would only be half honest. Perhaps it started as a kid, but truth be told, I still do it.
My imagination isn’t quite as detail orientented as my friend from the email above. I never really filled in the background, or thought about the environment around me. I was more focused on the food I guess. I know, shocker, right?
Broccoli is one of the least liked veggies for kids. I, however, loved it. I used to (and now that I have kids, frequently do again, pretend that they were little tiny trees, and I was a huge dinosaur, eating the trees.
Another food imagination that only worked if I was gigantic is crunchy cheetos. I was devouring a bag of them one day, when I realized that they were shaped like a very small tree branch, which could be wielded as a club by a very small caveman.
These G.I. Joe sized (and apparently invisible) cavemen would grab a cheesy orange club and… well, fly up to my face, I guess, and swing with all their might. To their dismay, I, the giant or dragon or something, would chomp their weapon to the handle. Like a villian throwing an empty gun at superman after just unloading their clip (which amusingly if you recall, he’d duck the gun, after just standing in a spray of bullets…) the cavemen would throw the useless nub of their club at my face, which, of course, I’d eat.
Undeterred, the cavemen would return to the armory (bag) and re-arm to come back for more. Cheeto-cavemen weren’t bright enough to realize that doing the same thing over and over would produce the same results.
And so now, it’s your turn. I ask you: Any foods you eat that invoke your imagination?