The food of love

“We all have positive memories of being fed.”-Michael pollen quote from “cooked”

My positive memories of food seem to give me a clue as to my current diet:
Here they are:
-coming home from summer camp for lunch and having a swim or time alone with my mom and eating Kraft dinner for lunch. I even love the smell of the water on the bottom of a pot burning on the stove because it reminds me of that.
-eating a pb&j sandwich (that I made myself) on a weekend winter hike with my science teacher ( and her random boyfriend) when i was 14.
-teaching myself how to cook rice on the stove and eating a bowl of rice with soya sauce for dinner when I was home alone on a Saturday night when I was 14.
-eating a fried egg that I cooked myself.
-eating and feeling warm in the kitchen at my friend avi’s 8th birthday party. Her mom made us mushroom barley soup.
– eating all the chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that my sister would bake when we were alone.
– eating instant oatmeal in the morning around the time that my dad did the same. (But not quite together)
– my mom and brother cooking spaghetti and meat sauce together in the warm kitchen. This might have just happened once but it felt nice.

–>these are all times when I ate without guilt and felt nourished/satisfied by the food. And these are all the foods i feel comfortable eating today. I guess there is a connection.

Here are some not so great food memories:
– coming home from school at 3pm on Fridays and having to help prepare dinner the entire evening and not being allowed to eat until dinner was served at 7pm.
– the smell of salmon steak poached in the microwave which meant I’d not be getting dinner that night.
– stirring stir fry forever.
– trying to take a snack and getting shamed for not preparing enough for others.
– sneaking crackers and cream cheese.
– eating a cucumber and salt for dinner after dinner time.
– eating a plain bagel for lunch and the inside is still sorta frozen.
– learning how to bake lemon squares when I was 14 and then eating them until I felt sick. And then being asked/told to make them each time we were invited somewhere.


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