With the constant weather changes barraging us every day, all I can think of is food. Especially if it’s a rainy weather, food enslaves my mind like there’s no tomorrow. Well who doesn’t, right? Sorry if there is not so much of logic in that statement but it happens to me a lot, guess I’m depressed, again (self-diagnosis, as usual). Though there are contradicting studies concluding that if you are stressed or depressed, you have heightened but time-limited physiological, psychological, and/or behavioral changes that might affect your food cravings, I am going to turn my head where it states that it does exist.
If I am stressed or depressed I tend not to be picky with what I eat, for some they choose sugar-rich foods while others eat salty foods specifically, but for me anything that I can get my hands on I swallow like a whale with a troupe of shrimps in front of me. Though I am not picky I have my favorites, and yes it is in plural form because I have a good list and a detailed one at that. Why you might ask? Because these kind of dishes comfort me like a warm blanket in a misty-filled dawn in Baguio in the month of February, like reminiscing the perfect scene from my favorite chick-flick movie, like a child opening for my only Christmas gift after 25 days of waiting, and who doesn’t like to be comforted in their times of need?
The other night and depressed that I was, I baked a fulfilling quiche, a heartwarming apple pie, and cooked a bowl or two of mushroom and basil-laden spaghetti. And by heaven’s intervention I was able to consume these warm, hearty, and savory dishes that were enough to make me feel good inside. The slice of quiche in my mouth equated to an explosion made of tender chicken bits, tasty bacon strips, soft cheese cubes, bitter-sweet spinach, rich cream, and the added dash of my favorite hot sauce made things more interesting. The same goes for the hot slice of apple pie – the tart of the apple contradicts the sweetness of the brown sugar and the bitter after-taste of the nutmeg is sensational, especially when a scoop of my favorite vanilla ice cream was added the difference in temperature juxtaposed and left my mouth craving for more. Almost full that I was, I was still able to munch the bowl of pasta and by my standards (a frustrated chef and food critic) it was worth the pounds I will gain.
For people who needs comfort, we find it everywhere. We even find comfort where understanding and love are not present. For me, I turn into food because it reminds me of my family. We love to share food and we talk when there is food abound. It is our common denominator not because we are a family of “healthy” individuals but because there is emotional investment every time food is present, so for me that’s how comfortable food gets.