A post about Food

Food's an old friend of mine. You could say we go back almost thirty years now. One of the first things I can remember tasting was a tomato that was fresh from the garden. I almost immediately spit it out, because four-year-olds think Skittles are a food group.

I started learning how to cook once I was on my own. I figured out that stews were nearly foolproof and I make a mean Beef and Guinness and Scotch Broth. I cooked a sirloin steak with port wine sauce perfectly on one occasion two years ago and haven't managed it since. I pwn baked mac and cheese, however.

Living in the Midwest, we don't have a lot of access to exotic dishes. Omaha has some decent Indian restaurants and sushi places. The greasy spoon diners and holes-in-the-wall are regularly edible. I can readily recommend Sinful Burger, Choo-Choos, Pudgy's Pizza, Mama's, The Indian Oven and Tanduri Fusion if you find yourself here.

I'm not creative with cooking by any means, however. I find the recipe and I follow it to the T. The Man makes fun of me sometimes; I don't think he's ever used a measuring spoon in his life. His intuition is good because I have yet to eat any Mulligans from him.

Up until now, I haven't worried about counting calories or portion control. Over the last year, though, that's begun to show, at least to me. It seems like I'm having to go up a size every few months; that's not such a worry when you started out at size 4, but it is a pain to have to replace your pants constantly because the waistband is digging into your hips. I'm also on the tall side of average, so I don't tend to show an extra fifteen pounds, but my jeans will testify under oath that they are there. I am going to attempt to cut most of the junk out of my diet just so my energy levels improve.

These are the times I wish I lived in a state where Runzas are not available, however. Happy weekend and good eating to all!