I was driving in the car today thinking about food. I don’t think about food all the time, but lately, I’ve been wondering why I want to eat the things I do. I was thinking about the idea of comfort food. I gathered that was food that people want to eat to remember the past and feel better. Then I began to wonder what my comfort food was. Not so much exactly what it was, per se, but more why I called it that. I didn’t have a happy childhood. When we had an abundance of casseroles that meant somebody died. We ate spaghetti once a week and Hamburger Helper because we couldn’t afford anything else. Little Debbie was a member of our family because “she” was cheap.
I tend to lean towards carberific food when I want comfort food. But I’m not eating to eat. I’m eating to feel better. That’s not the point of food. Food isn’t supposed to be around to make us feel better about our lives. And let’s say I eat it then…..I don’t eat until I’m full…..I eat until I feel better. That’s not right either. I can eat a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I add more butter, so I don’t have to worry about the milk part. I do not eat a bowl of cereal; I eat a box of cereal. While I’m eating one bowl, I’m already thinking about the next. As long as the milk holds out, I keep filling the bowl. Do I feel “better” when I’m done? Hell, no! I feel full and uncomfortable. Was that what I was really going for?
When my mother went to the Dr. (she went A LOT) we would get a candy bar from the pharmacy for our troubles. It was a Cadbury Milk Bar. I was partial to the caramel ones. When I go to the Dr. as an adult (seldom), I want a candy bar. Exactly a Cadbury Milk Bar Caramel flavored so I can think about my mother. Was my mother healthy? Nope, we went to the Dr. a lot with her because she had chronic illness, several bouts of almost dying, and she took a crap ton of pills. But I equate this with candy. Does this sound comforting? Not really.
Let’s not even think about birthdays at our house. Our birthdays were almost all so close together that every week we had a new cake for over a month. We couldn’t lump anyone’s birthday together. We all had to have our own cake. Cake came with ice cream and for me, a lot of frosting!
So where does my idea of food and comfort come from then?
My one grandmother used to make homemade macaroni and cheese; my other grandmother preferred Kraft. I want both. I stayed with my homemade macaroni and cheese grandmother when my mother was in the hospital so long we needed to go to school somewhere else for a while. I also stayed with her after I got divorced because my mother died within the same time frame (a week after the divorce) and at that point, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t function, I just had no idea what to do with myself. I was never getting divorced and because I did, my mother was supposed to help me through this. This was not very comforting either. But I did get the opportunity to eat some stale doughnuts (because they were on sale), all of the homemade holiday candy, the onslaught of Easter chocolate, the nut rolls during the holidays, and of course the homemade macaroni & cheese. The only problem with this was that I was an emotional zombie at this time. I went to work and came home. That was the extent of my life for about a year after I was divorced. My grandfather started telling me that I needed to get out of the house. He didn’t even care if I stayed out all night, I just needed to go back to the land of the living because I was creeping everyone out at the house.
Then I took care of my Kraft Macaroni & Cheese grandmother for several years towards the end of her life. We had fun times. We went on a winery tour around Ohio. I paid for the tour for just myself, but she was so damn cute that every winery gave her free stuff. My grandmother was diabetic. My father (her son) wanted her to live her life however she wanted, so one day a week he would take her out and they would eat junk. She would buy candy, ice cream, whatever crap she wanted to eat, and he let her. Does this sound comforting? She always had a stomachache afterward. ALWAYS! My brother and sister-in-law wanted to help, so they bought her sugar-free candy. She ate the WHOLE BAG in one sitting. Ever look at some of the sugar-free candy bags? There’s a warning on there. “Excessive consumption can have a laxative effect.” Yeah, it did. Was that comforting? NO!
So, what is comfort food? I have no idea. I know that I seldom have bread, cereal, pasta, or candy bars in my house. I don’t eat a few and don’t eat til full, so they can’t be around. Will I go out to a restaurant and eat the bread that’s put on the table? Sometimes. Other times I simply say, “No thanks.” and make them take the bread away from the table. I make homemade macaroni and cheese and eat Kraft once in a blue moon now. I still look at the Cadbury Milk Bars in the grocery store, but I simply walk past them instead of telling myself, “I deserve this.”
I know everyone has problems. Most likely the majority of people did not have a happy childhood. I’m not really talking about everyone else here though. Just myself and the idea of comfort food.
I’m not sure what type of food would actually make me happy. I’ve eaten candy bars and noticed that about 5 seconds after I finish it, the taste is already gone out of my mouth. The calories surprisingly are still there, but the taste and memory of the food are already gone. Then I begin to think I got gypped. I think if I’m going to have well over my calorie limit for the day, I should at least get to enjoy it longer.
So, then I’m left with the idea of what is comfort food? I still have no idea.
A Saucy Dame 