Volume 96, Issue 89
Wednesday, March 19, 2003

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Believe it or not, I talk to my food

Double latte
Kristina Lundblad
Deputy Editor

I love food. No, I love food.

I love food so much, in fact, that I was recently caught by one of my co-editors professing my love to a strip of bacon.

My obsession with food doesn't purely have to do with the need for me to fill my stomach. I see food as a fine art – an art that you can eventually eat.

But appreciating food isn't just about eating. It's about the process, the ingredients, the textures and colours. It's being aware of all of those things that makes the actual eating that much better.

I'd rather consider my love of food a sort of hobby instead of an obsession (although, it is a rather expensive hobby). While some people shop, I go out to eat or buy the best and freshest ingredients I can find. I remember a time last year when I called my mom to confess that I had just spent over $60 – on myself, that is – going out to dinner. Rather than getting mad, she merely said, "But that's what you do; food is your thing. That's fine, sweetee." We all know it's OK if mom says so.

While the idea of going to a swanky restaurant to see what the chef has created for his special that night excites me beyond words, I also love the simplicity of the basics. A beer-marinated pork chop grilling on the barbeque, for example, was my dinner of choice once a week this summer. Simple, but oh-so good.

However, my hobby does tend to monopolize my thoughts, like an "obsession" – if one would insist on calling it that. Every time I'm sitting down to eat, I can't help but wonder what I'll be eating for my next meal, or what I should order for dessert, even if I'm still eating my appetizer. My theory, which is completely logical, is that I have to know what I'll be eating next, simply to save room in my not-so-big stomach.

On a side note, people who are vegetarians bug me – I just don't understand them. The thought of never putting another piece of meat in my mouth ever again makes me shudder (don't laugh – you know what I mean).

And people who are obsessed with counting calories bug me, too. People who substitute applesauce for butter or low-fat yogurt in for sour cream shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen. Keep things pure – even if it's pure fat – for the sake of the dish. Afterall, it deserves respect.

I love flipping to the Food Network whenever I get the chance, and my choice of magazine at the gym is usually Gourmet (I do go to the gym, but only so that I can eat a pound of chicken wings later that night, guilt-free).

And my perfect day? My roommates are gone, the kitchen's clear and I'm cooking from morning to night. As for my ultimate dream, it's for me to marry someone really rich so that I will never have to work again and instead cook all day in my custom-made kitchen (but I'd have a maid to clean up the kitchen after me).

I also love food so much that the very act of writing a column about my love of food is thrilling to me. As I once said in a food-induced euphoria, "If I could never eat food again, I'd just die."

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