Being sick always forces me to recognize the extreme nature of my food addiction. I can’t taste at all, the only thing I can derive from a meal is texture, and I still pound slices of pizza like my life depends on it. Force of habit I guess. The whole time I desperately breathe through my nose, hoping to oxygenate my palate and experience the taste of food that I so deeply miss. Its a pathetic and mucus filled occasion.
At some point, you can’t change who you are, you just have to work around the problematic person you’ve become. I knew that having a cold, and subsequently no sense of taste, would do nothing to prevent me from eating. So I decided to make my meals as healthy as possible. Because whats the difference between bacon wrapped shrimp and kale salad when your taste buds are out of commission? Might as well stave off heart disease for another few weeks.
So I made lentil soup. I used the exact recipe that was used to a delicious end in class on Monday. I sautéed carrots, celery, and onion in olive oil to make your classic mirepoix. Then I added a can of chopped tomatoes, and cooked them down with about half a cup of water. Then I added maybe four cups of lentils, and simmered the soup for about ten minutes. I salted throughout, and peppered at the end, but in retrospect, it didn’t really matter. I had no ability to season to taste.
I ate five bowls of it, just so I could feel the comfort of chewing and swallowing. I could sort of taste it from time to time, and I’m pretty sure it was delicious, but one never knows. The important thing is that I got all my essential nutrients, plenty of protein, and didn’t let illness get in the way of my impending obesity.
You might be curious about the gastrointestinal impact of eating five bowls of lentil soup in one night. I’ll just say this. There are consequences. Very real consequences, and I think it would be best for everyone if I leave it at that.