I'm sitting on the couch, post-hot yoga, and it occurs to me that I definitely missed out on one of the finest things about living alone, when I lived on my own.
Eating whatever weird shit you want, without worrying about feeding it to others.
I'm currently eating about 4 spoonfuls of cold rice, with left-over aji verde from Pio Pio, mixed in. It's delicious. It's amazing. I'm sad there's not that much rice left, not that much aji verde left. I'm holding until Jesse gets home, so I can make a pizza. But for now, I'm eating rice with aji verde.
I remember being ashamed about eating those boxed noodle soups by Taste of Thai. I should have just enjoyed it. You are only 22 and single and living alone in New York for a finite amount of time. And that means eating Lucky Charms for breakfast, eating Salsita Chipotle on everything, eating boxed noodle soups and boxed risotto if you really want to. And making wonderful things when you want to, but still. I never got to indulge the ridiculous side of me who loves to eat salad with hot sauce, anything wtih balsamic vinaigrette on it, loves anything ramen-esque (but not ramen) and will eat anything as long as there are scrambled or fried eggs involved. Or cheese. I'll eat anything cheese-related.
But now, I think about wholesome foods, or at least foods that I can feed to someone else without worrying that he'll die of malnutrition. Like I won't make the delicious french fries with cheese and gravy and roasted garlic that I found on Serious Eats until we're both exercising. Even though let's face it, that sounds like heaven.....
It is now time to wait, and to make real dinner when I can. nom.