This week has been less ridiculous in terms of eating out. At least this week it's all happened either because I needed to be out of the house and nothing else is open at 3 in the morning, or on a date.
In the industrial part of town is a Denny's I've gone a couple of times while David was asleep in the bedroom and our friends in the living room. I'll admit I was a baby for a long while about going back there; not because the walk is long but because the neighborhood isn't so good. Last time I went, it was the night before somebody got shanked in the parking lot and I avoided it for a while. Then my wallet started getting a little too light for comfort and I tramped over for a chicken bourbon skillet.
What made it light was the 24 hour fancy pants restaurant across the bridge from me. The food is excellent, from bananas foster french toast to ice cream on a freshly baked cookie, but that quality is reflected in the price. Also in the fact that the servers wear bow ties. (I usually wander over in my Frosty the Snowman pajamas.)
This week I got a pound of meat in the form of stew meat and another half in a lean steak, which I had to share with the boys or else see it go bad. It brought me to the welcome conclusion that I just don't eat much meat. Thank the gods bacon and chicken don't fall under that umbrella while I'm doing this experiment. Not that I've gorged on my ration of bacon either; I still have a few rashers.
In an effort to keep better track of things, I've got a spreadsheet. What I don't eat from my rations this week gets rolled over to the next and so on until it reaches a month's supply or I have to start over. So far I haven't gone over my ration limits on anything but it would be nice to be able to make something big eventually.
Plenty of people would save up sugar or meat tickets or whatever was needed to make what they planned. A Christmas roast or birthday cake or something. It'll be interesting to see what I splurge on in the future.
This week tea goes on ration, but considering that it's still summer I don't see that being an issue. It's 2 oz of tea per week; when I used the kitchen scale to divide it out, we're talking more teabags than I've used in the past four months combined. It shouldn't be a problem.
Out of pure curiosity, I loaded up on different kinds of plums and combination stone fruits. I don't quite remember what everything is but I do know that I've become a fan of green plums; they taste kind of like honey. I think there were some plucots? Somehow the names are ridiculous and descriptive at once.
Saturday night was a double date, classic dinner and a movie. Half of a plate of doom nachos (6 cheese sauce, beans, jalapenos, pork, guacamole, and pickled onions on tortilla chips) with a pineapple margarita and a glass of horchata went down my throat while we all talked over Texan food. At the theater I met my end: mixed buttery and chocolate popcorn. I always wonder at how the chocolate didn't make the popcorn soggy, that it isn't too salty or sweet. I've never been able to figure out how they do that.
The movie made me forget about popcorn for a while though. Nothing quite like Mad Max: Fury Road in black and chrome, with surround sound. Only thing better I've found is the version where the dialogue is taken out but music and soundtrack are left in. Go ahead and call me a cinema snob, it might even be true.
Then I think about how much I loved The Spy Who Dumped Me (hilarious) and want to see The Nun (can't wait or dread it, depending on the day), and I have to reassess that idea. My taste in movies is kind of like Robert Downey Jr's wardrobe: either fabulous or awful, nothing in the middle. Yes I adore the Marvel Cinematic Universe and nearly worship Casablanca, but I also really enjoy Dracula Dead and Loving It and rewatch The Mermaid whenever I get an excuse.
Back on topic, I haven't been cooking as much as this experiment really asks for. Although people ate out often in those circumstances, I still feel kind of guilty about it. Maybe I can limit myself to things that would have been available back then... I'll figure out what to do about the dining out thing soon.
Hopefully I'll be able to cook at home more often soon. I've got performance anxiety about cooking and cleaning, and with guests in our living room who are homebodies, I don't do either as often as I otherwise would. Even though I know nobody will try bullying me about doing it wrong. David, Andre, and Lupe are too nice for that but fear is irrational.
Today is much easier because I'm at Dad's place. Part is that he doesn't lounge around anywhere in sight of the kitchen; the other part is that his cooking is best described as slop. It makes me wonder how he's survived living alone since he was widowed. I feel a lot better about my own cooking comparatively.
That probably has a lot to do with my anxiety about cooking in front of people. David's cooking is ambrosia, so I feel stupid and inexperienced under his eye. Andre and Lupe are also decent cooks and I don't know them so well. Comparing myself to what the three of them come up with, I fall short.
It's not fair to me, to measure myself by them. Andre and Lupe are a few years older than I am. David was taught by the kitchen goddess that is his mom. All the cookery I learned was from my mom before I was 13, and she was a damn picky eater with a super limited scope into the world of food.
I should make myself get over that fear. It's ridiculous, it's stupid, and it's holding me back even more than the summer heat did. What is fear but something to conquer?
That's code for, "I'm gonna stay a chicken." But maybe that'll change soon. Maybe later on I'll tell my performance anxiety to go fuck itself.
Let's hope, or else this period of people sleeping in my living room will be absolute hell.
