A few things inspired this exercise in ridiculousness. First, I woke up from a half-nap on the couch thinking about cheeseburgers, and wishing Myrna wasn't working late so I could convince her to be bad with me and go get one. As consolation for my misery of not getting a hamburger (which, clearly, I am perfectly capable of eating on my own, only I've promised myself I wouldn't go to Eatbar by myself for a burger more than once a month) and instead I posted about said thoughts of cheeseburgers on my facebook. How lame am I. (That doesn't even get a question mark.)
Second, I ate a whole knob of burrata (really, once cannot eat half a knob of burrata, even if one had self control, which I clearly do not), with a handful of green beans on the side. Third, I sat down to write something for work that I had been procrastinating over, and I ate a whole candy bar. And then got sucked into the wormhole of Pinterest recipes for chocolate chip cookies. And then, perhaps worst of all, I made a new Pinterest board dedicated entirely to donuts (which I always want to spell "doughnuts" - tell me this is ok, MMT).
Guys. I may as well say it: there are foods in this world which I utterly and truly cannot resist. Once I start thinking about a cheeseburger, I will continue thinking about that cheeseburger till I have it. And it doesn't help that my favorite cheeseburger place has changed their menu so they don't offer it anymore, and instead they offer sliders (which are lame!). That makes it an all-the-more-insatiable dream.
Other things I cannot resist? Predictably: donuts. A bad donut, even. And really really bad donuts that all the little kids running around the school hall after Mass have the good sense not to eat, yes, even those donuts I will eat. With glee. (The only times I have been truly truly disappointed with donuts were artsy-fartsy ones that I spent $3 on in hipster shops and they turned out to be sawdust. I should have known better.) For the record, I discovered my love of donuts at Church. Thank you God for your love and mercy and grace and dying on the cross to redeem our sins, and also for donuts.
Also: a bowl of olives or pistachios, my mom's saffron pasta, my sister's simple french salad, anything R cooks even if it is so spicy it burns my eyeballs, grapes, those orange gummy things (I blame you, Mom!).
Then there's that infamous burrata (above is a photo from last year's burrata binge). I am physically incapable of putting that orb of cheesy awesomeness on a plate and not take a bit of it right away. Which is stupid because a) it needs to come to up in temperature a bit before it tastes really good, which is why I put it on the plate before all the other food anyways and b) there is no point being greedy here, kids.
Which I suppose is the lesson of this whole entire post and evening and, frankly, probably my whole life. There is no point being greedy here, kids.
There's a great scene in Perelandra (more on that later this week), when Ransom first eats while on Venus. Starving, he explores the island and finds a little gourd. When he risks a taste, it is a pleasure so acute, it is"beyond all reckoning." When done, he ...
...was about to pluck a second one, it came into his head that he was now neither hungry or thirsty. And yet to repeat a pleasure so intense and almost so spiritual seemed an obvious thing to do. His reason...was all in favor of tasting this miracle again; the childlike innocence of the fruit, the labours he had undergone, the uncertainty of the future, all seemed to commend the action. Yet something seemed opposed to this "reason." It is difficult to suppose that this opposition came from desire, for what desire would turn from so much deliciousness? But for whatever cause, it appeared to him better not to taste again. Perhaps the experience had been so complete that repetition would be a vulgarity--like asking to hear the same symphony twice in a day.
Which, ps. I do all the time.