I have something to tell you.
Tonight, I ate three, count them, one, two, three dinners. This may be the first time. Sure, I've spent many nights eating second dinner, but that was par for the course. I was in grad school. I was working all the time and was always hungry. I had friends that had second lunches and dinners, thus obfuscating their absurdity. What do you want? But now I seem to have sunk to a new low-- no one ever needs to eat three dinners. Especially when the first one was so lovely and delicious.
You see, there are a few things at stake right now.
First of all, as you know, I don't really like sandwiches. And yet I made myself a sandwich for dinner. More on that once I explain issue number two.
Which is to say that Jeff has been gone all day (and all night, too, check out the time stamp). Now, this may not be the best thing to admit, but when Jeff is gone, I give myself leave to eat whatever I want. Not in a gluttonous, cardiac-arrest inducing way, of course, but, you know, sounds good. So tonight, I have eaten, to wit:
1. The infamous dinner sandwich (thanks to a little guidance from Thomas Keller): a BLT with a little bit of my divine pesto that was left over from the other night on toasted whole-grain bread, courtesy of Silver Moon bakery and a fried egg (the picture in my magazine made it look GREAT, and HOO BOY do I LOVE bacon)
2. A small salad
4. Leftover pasta from last night (just a little)
5 Leftover spicy chickeny...stuff from the other night when I made tostadas, complete with broken tostadas for dipping/munching
The last time I had a night like this we still lived in Madison. Jeff went to Minneapolis for work, in winter. I made a quiche. Of which I proceeded to eat two thirds. Let me tell you: quiche is a marvelous food to eat by oneself. I highly recommend it. Especially if no one is there to comment on how that much cream, egg, and bacon just can't be good for you. There are no distractions: just the soft, delicious goodness floating on a buttery, crumbly crust.
The thing is that Jeff is much more a sensible eater than I, and he therefore often inspires me to be a more sensible eater. See, had Jeff been here, a few hours after First Dinner (items one through three), he probably would have gotten hungry, moped around about not having pizza in the freezer, and then settled on fruit. Or a bite of ice cream. Or some crackers laced with peanut butter. Or another beer. Me, however, I'm stuck with wanting all sorts of food at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes I am on the pizza train withe Jeff. Sometimes not. Ask me what I want, anything I want to eat, and I will probably name something tasty that either I do not have the ingredients to make, cannot get to, or don't want to pay for. That or it is too late to start cooking, I won't want to clean up, or I have to go to bed anyway so I don't even bother. I'll just whine about it until I become too unbearable even for myself and I manage either to go to bed or to chill out.
But what a wonderful thing it is, to be content with one's belly. Should you get the chance to treat yourself to your indulgence, I totally recommend it.