I told you about a month ago that we were going to embark on a journey of real food. It sounded absolutely ridiculous that we were perhaps eating more lab created food then natural food. But we somehow did invite the world of marketing into our pantry and seems we have a lot of boxes, bags, and frozen this and that. Organic, but still super processed and lots of questionable ingredients.
I have gained five pounds so far. Oh no, not from the real food, but because not two days in I defiantly remarked, “You can’t tell me what to do!” To myself. I instantly became all bent out of shape about having to cook three meals a day and everything from scratch. I would spend the day baking bread, scones, looking at cracker recipes, mess up my kitchen, and then make Doug take me out to dinner. We have been out a record amount of times this month.
Doug had the idea in his head that we were going to have something like smoothies for breakfast, salads for lunch, and Buddha bowls for dinner. Doesn’t that sound amazing? Delicious, fresh, easy? I can feel my stomach growling. Sooo boring.
Let’s say I want tacos. Well, I have to make the tortillas. No problem. Now, real meat or lab created veggie meat? Okay, cheese or no cheese? Lord, by the time I am done worrying about all this real food I am down at the Mexican restaurant slurping down a margarita. I am a rather difficult housewife, it seems.
I am rereading, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. The author and her family embark on a journey of not just real food, but local food as well. I stood in front of my impressive old pantry shelf filled with jars of staples and realized that not a single thing on it was produced locally. I also have so many rogue ingredients from trying (or intending to try) one recipe. I have so many things going rancid. And nothing in my house is local save for what is now coming up in the garden and the eggs from the coop.
It is certainly difficult to rewire the brain. Simplifying my recipes is the answer I am sure. Local food. Organic food. In its original form. Without all the overthinking. But trying to figure out what to eat without the helpful addition of boxes, bags, and this and that, is actually rather difficult. I had no idea we were so dependent. Throw in moral dilemmas of meat or no meat and a tired housewife and you have yourself a predicament and an extra five pounds.
My friend laughs because I am actually a lot better at being healthy when I am not planning. So, perhaps we are better if we just take one meal at a time. One little change at a time. One local food in, one box out. One more walk around the lake. We’re doing fine.