There was a period in my life when I ate carbs. I bought no meat, no poultry, no pork, no fish. In my view, such luxury items were not worth budgeting for, so they were never to be found in my fridge.
My diet was easy, sufficient in terms of nutrition, cheap, and without deviation.
After work I’d pull my one pot down from the dropped hook and boil a cup of white rice with a half-cup of dried lentils and green or yellow split peas. Into this pond of carbs I would add broccoli florets. More than once I uttered cruciferous as I pushed them into the boiling water with a knife.
“Cruciferous.”
Sixteen minutes later, the pond of carbs and carcinogen-fighting goodness dried up, I’d add raisins, avocado, finely diced cheese, fresh tomatoes, and Kosher salt.
I finished this meal in one sitting, my eyes seesawing back and forth between the plate full of Sundry Rice and the phallic/yonic Chicago skyline east of my window.
For dinner, whether at a reasonable or ungodly hour, I’d bring water to a boil in the same pot – often unwashed from lunch, the idea being to get as much nutrition out of each ingredient as possible – and cook al dente a faggot of semolina. Into this pond of carbs I would add broccoli.
Seven minutes later, the colander played its role. Into the Spaghetti Monster, I’d add real salted butter and some oregano because I like the taste of green.
In a small frying pan I’d make an omelette, generous with the cheese and tomato. The omelette would top the pasta and broccoli.
Kosher salt came with me to the same table as in the afternoon. That and the plastic honey bear. Kerouac only got it half right: God isn’t just a pooh bear, God is a pooh bear full of honey.
Nine-ish in the morning, after a night of sleeping on a used futon mattress purchased for ten dollars at a garage sale discovered on craigslist, I’d take the tupper ware with leftover Pasta Delight out of the fridge.
On a plate I would set to their final rest two slices of whole wheat bread sprinkled with dry oats bought from Stanley’s Produce Mart. A couple slices of cheese also assumed a position of final rest on the bread. Then the remainder of the Pasta Delight.
Carb Sandwich for breakfast.
Loop this three-meal sequence, extend it, stretch it for days, months, and finally years into the future, then you’ll see what I ate throughout this period of my life, and you are what you eat, right?
This concludes my confession to all you silent Internet users.
