Showing posts with label addiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label addiction. Show all posts

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Junkie

A food high is a wonderful thing.

It is the sort of sensation that has led me to say to prior exes, "Food does things for me that you have no hope of accomplishing. "

A food high is when you put something so delicious, so fresh, so clean and simple and pure in your mouth, every last pleasure center in your brain fires off. The taste lingers on your tongue an extra second, you honestly feel a bit light-headed, even dizzy. A feeling of utter ecstasy just short of an orgasm builds up in your body, begging for release. The memory of which will get you salivating at the mere mention of the last place you had such an experience.

Food highs are why I demolish restaurant literature.  Food highs are what get me volunteering for festivals. Food highs drive my obsession, and cause me to drop money on subscriptions to Food & Wine magazine that result in me only reading each issue once, maybe twice. 

It's a never ending struggle between my wallet and my tastebuds. It's also a dangerous addiction- after all, one cannot quit eating.  But at the same time, isn't this the addiction we should be persuading people towards? Drugs, alcohol- while those can be enjoyable, they lead to poor decisions.  I have yet to have a truly terrible food addiction experience (I stand by my decision to have beer ice cream at 6am as a marvelous decision).

Sure, there is the possibility for obesity.  But if we introduce kids to a variety of food growing up,  not just Fatty McWendy King's bullshit, I wholly believe kids can grow to make better food decisions.  My body is smart- it informs me when it thinks it needs something via cravings.  It's a great system.  And having introduced it to so much variety has given it options as to what to crave. Stop hating your body. Listen to it. Treat it. It'll tell you what you need to know.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Stimulation

It's been a busy night. Saturdays usually are. Somehow I've been lucky the past two nights, and the morning cook has actually done the prep lists I've left him. I struggle to seem busy while my fellow line cooks actually prepare their stations.

About 7pm, we actually start cooking. We have a crapload of reservations, but they're behaving and flowing in steadily.

8:30pm rolls around. One of the owners brings a round of whiskey shots, the first time I've seen this happen here. A food runner gives me an espresso shot immediately after. I feel good. Really good.

12:30am hits. We're just finishing cleaning, and slamming beers in the walk-in. We need the medication after 240 covers that night.

1am. I've been sitting at the bar with my coworkers, coming down off the adrenaline high with more beer and a cigarette. I'm proud. We kicked ass tonight.

Tonight is cooking in a nutshell. Adrenaline, caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol all feed into each other; occasionally balancing out, and ultimately fueling the fire. I can feel myself passing out. I've earned my days off.