Yeah, I’ve got some catch-up to do. I returned home from Chicago to a totaled car (we’re now a one-car, two-bike family), followed by one of the worst migraines I’ve had in a long, long time. Seriously, so bad that the sound of the squirrels running across my roof, which I normally think is the cutest friggin’ sound ever, had me convinced they knew I could feel every step deep in the folds of my brain and were doing it on purpose. (Squirrels, I’m sorry for all the awful things I said about you and your mothers.)

So I haven’t been doing much cooking (time and energy) or even going out to eat (money). I have been either running around or rooted in bed, either craving comforty snacks or shoving them down my throat, hoping they’ll stay down. I wish I were the type to reach for the fruit and veg to blend up that perfect pick-me-up, but I’m not. I drink coffee. I eat chocolate. I will try to bread and fry pretty much anything. I’m now going to share with you—don’t ask me why—some of my favorite crappy, comforty, guilty-pleasure junk food.

Fried onions. Can’t think of a better place to start. Nothing could embarrass me more than being witnessed eating these, straight out of the can. You can feel how gross they are by the greasy residue on your fingers. You can’t lick that off—it’s disgusting. And I cannot explain why that same grease is fine when it’s trapped in those crispy little onion strings. Why are these things wasted on casseroles? They can ruin you just fine on their own.

Popcorn with Earth Balance, salt & chocolate chips. I proudly make my popcorn in a pot. That’s where the pride ends, because then I melt Earth Balance and add salt and semi-sweets. It is possibly the messiest food I eat, almost always getting chocolate on my shirt. But the best part? The melty chocolate and EB left on the bottom of the bowl.

Saifun. It’s like eating fried nothing. When you just need fried, saifun’s your guy. Tom gives me a judgey look whenever I eat this, but he knows how dangerous it is to say it out loud when I’m in the kind of mood that brings me to a bowl of salted fried nothing.

Chocolate chip pancakes. I don’t even bother with measurements anymore. When I’m making pancakes for real, I use Isa’s VWAV recipe, but when I don’t care and it’s just for a less-than me, I eyeball the ingredients and then load as many chocolate chips as possible. Then I eat them with my hands. Come to think of it, everything I’m listing here is eaten with my fingers. Silverware is just too dignified for this sort of wallowy behavior.

Garlic bread. Garlic and oil and salt and starch. Boom, comfort. I’m not even embarrassed by this one. I think if you’ve got a problem with garlic bread then maybe I’ve got a problem with you. Let’s tango.


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