least it’s not just me. There is “Comfort Food” displayed all over the
front of this month’s Indy Monthly, in the form of a huge headline and some sort
of pasta casserole, my most recent email from fromages.com trumpets the advent
of a “comforting cheeseboard”, and
even upscale Dean & DeLuca is in on the act, their “comfort food” including spendy mac and cheese and even spendier
lobster pot pie.
I am not the only one reveling in the white, refined foods that match the pale
winter landscape. I’d like to think that
my recent binges on raclette, macaroni and cheese, pasta with butter and
parmesan, and (am I really going to admit this on a food blog?) tuna noodle
casserole are just due to the chilly weather, but the truth is, my current diet
is all about emotional solace. Talk
about not eating for the right reasons.
I have mentioned, oh too many times, the last several months have not been too
great around here. Losing one of our
sweet dogs and trying to stay one step ahead of my mom’s illness have really
whomped me. I went to the doctor
recently miserable with a stuffy head and I don’t remember exactly what I told
him, but when I caught a peek at the diagnosis on my chart, it said “sinus
infection and grief reaction.” He only
prescribed an antibiotic, though. I had to come up with the carbs on my own.
boy, have I ever. Comfort food for me is
the kind of food that makes me feel cozy while I am eating it. Nurtured
and cared for and replete. Noodles are good for this. Butter is good.
Cheese is better. Sometimes comfort food is food that is just
familiar. Childhood food. The Lebanese foods that meant something
really special when I was small, the cinnamony smell of my dad’s spaghetti
sauce, the mustard tang of my mom’s potato salad, and the spicy crunch of my
grandma’s molasses ginger cookies.
food can’t come in small portions, either. It’s almost always the case that the reason I need it is that there is
not enough of something precious – not enough time, not enough of me, not enough
energy or love or sleep. So comfort food
has to make up the deficit. There has to be plenty
— enough that I can fall asleep with a full belly, believing that tomorrow
will be a better day.
course, now I am dealing with the after effects of too many comfort meals,
which is to say I am FAT! Sluggish. Slow
of thought and heavy of spirit, with cream sauce running in my veins. Time for a change.